


Love is Blind

by parchmentandoldbooks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blind Date, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 21,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parchmentandoldbooks/pseuds/parchmentandoldbooks
Summary: When Hermione Granger agreed to let Ginny Weasley set her up on a blind date, she never expected it be with him; of all people. When Draco Malfoy saw who walked into the bar, he knew he was in for one wild ride. Will a blind date turn into something more? Can the past really be forgotten?





	1. Chapter One

Hermione Granger could not believe that she had agreed to this. While she had been doing a whole host of reckless things lately, letting Ginny Weasley set her up on a blind date was the pinnacle. As she did a final check of her hair and makeup before leaving her flat, she felt a strange nervousness building in the pit of her stomach. Ever since she and Ron had parted ways nearly a year prior, her love life had been pretty uneventful. While she certainly wasn't desperate for marriage or children at any time in the immediate future, having someone to share a bottle of wine over dinner or to drag along to various Ministry parties would be a great comfort. As she felt the butterflies being replaced by the tug of Apparition, she said a silent prayer to the gods that Ginny had found her someone with at least an inkling of potential.   
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Draco Malfoy stood at the bar, irritated. He had agreed to come on this stupid date as a favor to Blaise but already found himself coming up with a long list of excuses so that he could leave while the night was still young. As he nursed a glass of Firewhiskey, he noticed Blaise finally approaching.   
"You're late, Zabini," he muttered as a way of greeting his old friend.  
"Don't be so sour already, Draco. If your date doesn't work out I'm sure you'll be able to summon one of many bimbos to give you some satisfaction tonight," Blaise replied before ordering himself a drink as well.   
"Where is your girlfriend anyway? The sooner this starts the sooner I can leave."   
"She'll be here in a few minutes. Practice ran a little later than she expected and she wanted to meet up with your date before she came."   
"You really have no idea who she's bringing? I swear if she walks in with Millicent Bulstrode I'll strangle you on the spot."  
"Calm down mate, I'm sure that it can't possibly be that bad. Besides, you could use a night out of your stuffy flat, as posh as it may be."  
Over the next few minutes, the two friends caught up over their drinks, still waiting for their partners to arrive.  
"Oi look, there's Ginny now, but who's that with her?" Blaise said, nudging Draco.  
"Merlin's beard, that can't be," Draco replied with a groan.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Ginevra Weasley, I cannot believe that you won't give me even the slightest hint as to who you've chosen as my date!" Hermione scolded upon meeting her friend in Diagon Alley.   
"’Mione, would I do you wrong?" The redhead replied, rolling her eyes as she led Hermione toward their destination. "I had to choose someone worthy, that way you'll actually have a date to my wedding once Blaise finally proposes," she finished, frowning.   
Just when Hermione had thought up a witty response, Ginny stopped outside of a rather plush looking bar.   
"We're here, but first you have to promise me to be on your very best behavior and to not hex him unless he actually deserves it, Hermione," with that Ginny pushed past the burly men outside the doors and into the dimly lit room beyond them.   
Feeling nearly sick with nerves, Hermione followed Ginny to the bar. When she finally gathered the courage to glance at the bar she saw the one person she never expected.


	2. Chapter Two

"Ginevra Weasley I cannot believe that you set me up with Draco BLOODY Malfoy of all people in the Wizarding World!" Hermione hissed into Ginny's ear before the two had reached the bar.

"Relax Hermione, when is the last time you've even spoken to him? I've been to a few dinners with him and he seems quite charming, and definitely handsome. If tonight is really as dreadful as you're expecting you never have to speak to him again, but at least give it a chance," Ginny pleaded as they reached the bar.

"It's good to see you Hermione, Ginny has been excited about this double date for ages," Blaise said, greeting Hermione with a polite kiss on the cheek before turning to greet his girlfriend.

Hermione stood in an awkward silence, unsure of how to approach the blond man scowling into his drink.

"Aren't you going to say hello Granger? It would be the polite thing to do," He finally said, his voice lower than Hermione remembered.

"Good Evening Malfoy, I hope you've been well," She replied stiffly, taken aback by his nonchalance at their pairing.

"I think you of all people know how unwell I've been as of late," He drawled, finally turning to fully face her.

Despite all of her former opinions of him, Hermione could not deny that Draco had grown into his sharp features. He no longer wore his platinum hair slicked tightly against his head, instead it was looser and hung just barely into his eyes. His lips were deliciously full, jaw perfectly chiseled, and his gray eyes piercing. His face no longer wore the same tortured expression that it did during the war, and all in all he seemed far more solid than during their school years.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure that things haven't been easy since your father passed," Hermione had seen many stories and images of Lucius Malfoy throughout his life, rehashing discussions of his involvement as a Death Eater throughout the previous few weeks following his death.

"He deserved it, everything that happened to us was his fault. I don't care about him being gone, but the stories are bad publicity for the company. Honestly, how is anyone going to trust a company run by the son of Voldemort's right hand man? It's all a fucking nightmare Granger," He replied, taking a drink of his Firewhiskey as he finished. "Enough about business though, how has Gryffindor's Princess been holding up lately?"

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond, tracing the woodgrain of the bar with her finger while she tried to form a coherent response. She felt a strange urge to pour her heart out, telling Malfoy how alone she was and how she felt like the whole world was spinning around her, faster and faster out of her control.

"Careful Granger, if you think any harder you'll have smoke coming out of your ears" Draco whispered into her ear, suddenly close enough for Hermione to feel his warmth radiating off of him in waves. His cologne enveloped her, sending a shiver down her spine and covering her arms in goosebumps.

"Oh...I erm..." Hermione gaped in response.

"Quit babbling and dance with me Granger," He commanded gently, talking her hand and leading Hermione into the crowd of people gathered on the dance floor.

"I'm a miserable dancer, consider yourself warned"

"Well Granger, I was forced into ballroom dance lessons at a young age, so rest assured I have enough talent and grace for both of us," he quipped, smirking.

While years before there would have been a great deal of pretentiousness behind that statement, it was now flippant and almost humorous. Hermione could almost imagine a young Malfoy with his slicked back hair scowling as his mother oversaw dancing lessons similar to McGonagall's lesson in fourth year. Her face must have betrayed her as Malfoy quickly interrupted her train of thought,

"What's so funny Granger?"

"Oh, I was just imagining what a young Malfoy would've thought about having to learn ballroom dance. I'm sure you were the picture of polite society while being forced to learn to waltz," She replied, surprised that she was having such a civil conversation with her former enemy, a boy who had made sure her school years were full of constant reminders of her blood status.

"I certainly wasn't thrilled about the idea, but it made Mother happy," he replied, "as I got older the things that made her smile became more and more scarce so I happily waltzed whenever she asked,"

"I'm really sorry Malfoy, I can't imagine what it must've been like, growing up with Voldemort always close by," Hermione was surprised at how true her statement was and how easily it slipped out.  
"Don't worry about it Granger, I wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine in anyone's day anyway. I made your life a living hell for all that time, all because someone else told me to," Hermione noticed that as Draco spoke his eyes turned a darker gray and he seemed to be far away.

"Enough about the past though, it's all over now anyway. Do you want something to drink?"

"A glass of Moscato would be lovely, thanks," Hermione replied, suddenly feeling like she had already been drinking.

As Hermione watched Draco work his way toward the bar, her best friend found her in the crowd.

"How is it? How is he? You looked good together, I knew I was right!," She asked excitedly.

"Honestly Gin, this is the most promising date I've been on in months," Hermione replied, shocked at how strange, yet true it was to be speaking about Draco Malfoy in such a context.

"We haven't even had dinner yet!" Ginny squealed as Blaise approached the two.

"Am I allowed to be over here, or is this strictly for female ears only?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at Ginny's obvious excitement.

"OHMYGOSH, IwasrightitoldyoutheywouldbeperfectforeachotherandIbetyoutwentygalleonsthey'llsleeptogether," Ginny replied, nearly shaking with excitement over her masterful match.

"Ginvera Weasley! I never said anything about sleeping with him!" Hermione yelped, feeling hot as a deep blush rose crawled up from her neck onto her face.

"Am I interrupting something?" Malfoy asked as he gently passed Hermione her wine glass.

"No, nothing, Ginny was just telling me about the last family dinner," Hermione answered quickly and took a larger than polite gulp of her wine.

"Well, if you're sure then, we should probably be heading out to dinner soon," He said, closer than Hermione expected.


	3. Chapter Three

Draco was surprised at how well this date was going. He had expected Hermione to be cold and distant, unwilling to look past their history. Draco wouldn't have been surprised if she left early, not wanting to ruin her reputation by associating with a former Death Eater. While he had been formally cleared of all charges regarding the Malfoy family's involvement with Voldemort, not everyone in the wizarding world had been willing to forgive as easily as the Wizengamot.

Hermione worked for the Ministry now, he frequently saw her in the society pages of the Daily Prophet at various Ministry parties. She had transformed from the frizzy haired know-it-all from Hogwarts into a confident woman, one who could effortlessly command the attention of an entire ballroom. She was beautiful, if Draco was being honest with himself, her rich brown hair shone brightly next to her warmly tanned skin, and her eyes seemed to twinkle with light.

He was hardly paying attention to the excited chatter erupting from Ginny on their way to Le bélier d'or, some pretentious new restaurant that was all the place to dine if one preferred to be surrounded by pretentious people desperate to end up in the society pages of the Prophet.

"Honestly Zabini, here of all places," Draco sighed, wishing they could duck into the charming looking café just across the street.

"Stop complaining Malfoy, it's about time you ate a decent meal again," Blaise replied as they reached the heavy looking doors where a white gloved door man waited to allow them inside.

They entered the small antechamber where the maître'd waited, sweeping past parties of people who would surely be waiting too long for a table.

"Good Evening Mr. Zabini, Ms. Weasley, it is an immense pleasure to have you again, as always" the moustachioed man greeted, doing a strange little bow as they approached.

Swiftly, he turned on his heel, leading them into a dimly-lit, expansive dining room, filled with tables clearly meant for those who wanted attention and more private dining areas at the back.

"A little over-the-top don't you think?" Hermione muttered in his ear, nodding towards a glistening, golden ram in the center of the room.

"When you put gold in anything's name, it tends to be over the top," he replied, feeling the corners of his mouth begin to lift at the ease of their banter.

"What, pray tell, are you two whispering about?" Ginny asked, whipping her head around to face them.

"Just how lovely the room is, I was thinking about hiring the decorator to do my flat," Hermione replied, barely supressing a giggle. 

"I don't see what's so funny Hermione, that is a perfectly practical piece of decor. A sensible balance of rugged masculinity with a touch of refined glamour," Draco scolded, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.   
Hermione reveled in the way that her name sounded with his perfectly refined accent. She had never heard anything so beautiful and had obviously been pronouncing her own name wrong her entire life. 

"Wait. Hermione. Jean. Granger. You need to get a grip, there's no way you're already drunk you only had one glass of wine and there's no way that you're already in lust with Draco Malfoy," Hermione scolded herself internally, feeling a hot blush beginning to creep up from her chest. "Relax, you're the brightest witch of your age, Gryffindor Princess, you're in control here. We don't need to go jumping to any sort of conclusions just because he has a perfectly chiseled jawline and smells like peppermint and parchment," she continued as she delicately toyed with her salad fork. 

Their waiter had come to take their orders, and the foursome sat around their small table, sectioned off from the rest of the large room with a thick, velvet curtain. 

"Oi, Drake, did you hear about Nott's father? Supposedly the bastard still had some death eater junk lying around the old estate and tried to blame it on the Ministry for planting it there," Blaise asked, tearing a piece off of his bread and popping it into his mouth. 

"That's absolutely the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! The Ministry has a job, to protect the interests of the entirety of the Wizarding World! He ought to be feeling quite lucky that he ended up with only a fine and not time in Azkaban!" Hermione interjected, turning lightly pink as she spoke.

"Well Granger, I suppose that would be the appropriate response considering you're a Ministry official, but some of us could find some truth in that statement," Draco rebuffed, lazily swirling the firewhiskey in his glass.

"I don't know what you mean, Malfoy. If people aren't expecting that the Aurors are doing everything they can to track down any remnants of Voldemort, then I'm not sure they fully comprehend the gravity of everything that happened in the War," 

"I know firsthand just how hard it can be to make some parts of the War disappear," Draco answered, his voice low and gravelly. 

Hermione noticed as Draco rubbed the inside of his left wrist, almost instinctively and felt a hot pebble of guilt rising up in her throat. As she was trying to figure out how to apologize, she felt a swift kick to the shin under the table. 

"I need to run to the ladies room, would you like to come with 'Mione?" Ginny asked, her voice bright but her eyes burning with something else entirely.


	4. Chapter Four

"Merlin's Beard Hermione!" Ginny hissed as soon as they had entered the posh marble bathroom. "What the bloody hell are you thinking?! I know that Death Eaters were bad and Voldemort was bad and that we can't go on and let the Dark Arts rise again and all, but being so harsh about it, on your first date, with someone that is a little sensitive to the whole thing. Really?!"

"I know Ginny," Hermione groaned, letting her head rest against the cool tiled wall as Ginny checked her makeup in the mirror. "I wasn't thinking about it. I just get so frustrated when people talk about how horribly unfair the Ministry has been, as if we were the ones killing muggle borns for sport," she sighed, wishing that things didn't always have to be so complicated.

"I know 'Mione," Ginny whispered, softly pulling her into a hug. "The War sucked, the whole bloody thing was an absolute shit-show, and what Voldemort and the Death Eaters did was horrible, but you and I both know that we have to be willing to forgive and move on. If Malfoy still felt the same way, do you honestly think that he'd still be here, stealing glances at you?" She asked, raising her eyebrow.

"What do you mean, "stealing glances"? How are we supposed to believe that he's actually interested in me anyway, Ginny? He could just be here because he's too polite to leave early," Hermione asked, feeling herself grow pink at the thought of Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Sex God, observing her so closely.

"Hermione, it's bloody obvious that he's attracted to you. I don't think he's gone more than three minutes without looking at you, even when the rest of us were talking about Quidditch. Besides, I'm sure that Malfoy would have no problem coming up with some pitiful excuse to duck out if this date was horrible. Give yourself some credit love, you're Hermione-fucking-Granger, not some Millicent Bulstrode. He'd have to be even stupider than my idiot brother if he didn't see that," Ginny stated with an air of finality as she opened the washroom door to return to their table.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"What do you think, Drake?" Blaise asked, interrupting Draco's thoughts.

"Of what, Zabini? The decor is something, the waiter is interesting, and their firewhiskey selection is tragic. All in all, the kind of place I'd bring a girl to break up," Draco answered, wondering why women always needed to go to the bathroom in groups.

"I'm wounded, really. I meant what do you think of Hermione, mate? I know that you two were like cats and dogs back at Hogwarts, but you're both pretty similar once you put house loyalties aside."

Draco thought that Hermione was like a puzzle that you didn't have the picture of. He had been so sure that she was at least moderately interested in him, but he still wasn't convinced that she had forgiven his past involvement as a Death Eater. She was beautiful, especially when she talked about something she was passionate about. She had this intoxicating electricity about her that made his brain go frustratingly fuzzy at the edges. She moved with the grace of the finest silk, and her easy banter put him at ease.

But that couldn't do. They hadn't even been alone together, the short dance at the bar didn't count, Draco decided. There was no way that he could be that attracted to her already. It had been a week or two since he had been around a woman other than his mother and the nauseating secretary at work, that had to be it. Maybe he would owl one of the regular witches in his rotation of women and snap out of whatever had taken over him.

Before he had a chance to answer, the two women returned from the bathroom, Hermione blushing in a very demure, very alluring way.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had been held up by a Mountain Troll in there, Granger," Draco smirked, enjoying the slightly panicked look that passed over Hermione's features as she shot a sideways glance at her companion.

It was certainly empowering, knowing that he could get under Hermione Granger's perfect skin.


	5. Chapter Five

The rest of their date passed by in a blur, filled with animated conversation and carefully made observations about her dining partner. By the time they were getting up to leave the restaurant, Hermione had had a few too many glasses of wine in an attempt to quell her nerves, feeling the effects in the form of a delightful fuzzy feeling in her head. She felt herself swaying slightly as she tried to step away from her chair, only finding stability in the strong arm that wrapped around her waist.

"Easy there Granger, we wouldn't want anybody getting the wrong idea about Gryffindor's resident golden girl," Malfoy purred into her ear as Hermione found herself distracted by the way his muscles tensed around her. 

"I can assure you, I have no idea what you're on about, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "There is nothing indecent about having a nice dinner out with old friends," she continued. 

"Mr. Malfoy is it? My secretary is the only person that calls me that, and even then only when she knows she's done something bad," Draco said, raising an eyebrow at her. 

"Well, what else am I to call you then? Would you prefer Ferret?" Hermione teased, giggling at her own drunken wit. 

"I thought we might start with Draco, seeing as it is my name after all," He whispered, tickling her ear with his breath, giving Hermione goosebumps as Draco gently steered her toward the door. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Once outside, the foursome gathered to say their goodbyes, Ginny and Blaise off to some party for the Harpies. 

"I'll pop over first thing in the morning so that we can discuss things, 'Mione," Ginny whispered as she hugged her friend goodbye. "It was lovely seeing you again Draco, you'll have to come round for dinner at ours sometime," she added, linking arms with Blaise before the pair apparated away with a pop.

"Well, I suppose I ought to be getting home now," Hermione said, enraptured by a pebble that she had found under the toe of her shoe. Unsure of how to speak to Malfoy now that they were alone.

"If you think that I'm stupid enough to let you apparate in your current state, you must not be the brightest witch of our age like I thought," Draco said, staring at her intensely, his gray eyes boring into her, setting the flesh underneath on fire. 

"He thinks that I'm the brightest witch of our age? Draco Malfoy thinks about me?" Hermione thought to herself, intensely curious as to what kinds of things he thought about her. "You don't need to worry about that Draco, on nights like this one I vastly prefer to walk," She stated, starting to turn in the direction of her flat. 

"If you think I'm going to let you walk home by yourself, you must be even denser that I imagined," He drawled, stepping forward to join her. 

"I can assure you Draco Malfoy, I am perfectly capable of finding my way back to my own flat by myself, alcohol or not!" 

"I trust in that completely, Hermione. What I don't trust are the men who would be overjoyed to stumble upon a beautiful woman, by herself, on her way home,"

"Well then. I guess it wouldn't hurt," Hermione decided, too stunned by Draco's admission of her beauty to put up any further argument. It might be nice, she thought, to have someone close by as the night air cooled around her. 

They set off, beginning the 20 minute walk back to her flat, the silence between them broken by the rhythmic beat of their shoes against the cobblestoned streets. 

"So, nothing ever came of you and good King Weaselbee?" Draco asked, casting a sidelined glance at Hermione.

"No, Ronald and I decided that the trajectories of our lives were headed in two different directions at that it would be mutually beneficial to end it while we were still on good terms," Hermione answered, ignoring his half-hearted attempt at an insult, "not that it's any of your business," she added, an afterthought. 

"How bloody diplomatic of you Granger, I'm surprised you didn't draw up a treaty and call an official meeting of the Wizengamot to decide who had custody of the armchair too," Draco drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm, "there wasn't anything more scandalous than that?"

"Firstly, if there had been some sort of grand occasion marking the end of the relationship, I'm sure it would have been all over the papers," she added, rolling her eyes at the thought of a Rita-Skeeter type scribbling away at a parchment, regaling the readers of Witch Weekly with a harrowing tale of love lost. "Secondly. I refer to my previous point; what happened between Ron and I is none of your business, Draco Malfoy," she finished, making sure to remind her companion of his place. 

"How positively vanilla of you Granger, are you always this straight laced?" He chuckled, enjoying the way she squirmed, obviously trying to determine the best way to react to his statement. 

"I'll have you know being pragmatic and logical is not a weakness of any sort, Malfoy. It allows for better problem solving and being emotionally rational," She huffed, sounding a little more flustered than she intended. 

"So now we're back to Malfoy, and to think I had thought things were going quite well," He teased, pretending to be offended by her rebuttal. 

"Oh, well, I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to-"

"Relax Hermione, I'm only teasing. I admit I may have earned that anyway," He said, smiling at her in a way that made her knees go a little weak and her heart beat a little faster. 

"Well of course you were. I just wanted to make sure that I properly thanked you for tonight, it was quite nice to get away from work and home for a while," She muttered, keeping her gaze fixed on the ground as the toes of her heels passed, one in front of the other. 

"It was my pleasure Ms. Granger, a true delight," he replied, giving a polite little bow that made her giggle.

"Did they teach you that in finishing school too?" she snorted, once again picturing a young Malfoy being taught how to make polite conversation while keeping the order of forks, spoons, and knives straight. 

"No, believe it or not, Professor Trelawney had lovely dinner parties that would have put the Slug Club to shame," 

"I think that your memories may have been corrupted by whatever strange herb she was burning. Either that, or she laced the tea with some sort of concoction." 

"It really does not sit well with you, not being the top of the class in something does it?"

"Excuse me! I'll have you know, I was in fact at the top of the class, even in that ridiculous circus!" Hermione exclaimed, and Draco could've sworn that her hair grew slightly frizzy as she thought about their Divination lessons in third year. 

"Alright, I concede! You, Hermione Granger were, and continue to be the Brightest Witch of Our Age, even in rubbish topics like Divination," Draco replied, raising his hands and struggling to hold back his laughter. 

"That's right," She said, beaming up at him. "We're here," she continued, obviously unsure of how to proceed. 

"Alright then, as a well bred gentlemen, educated by the finest tutors in the ways of polite society, I am obligated to see that you make it inside your home safely, Madame," He said, extending his arm toward the building with a flourish.


	6. Chapter Six

Hermione felt her nerves growing with each step she took towards her door. The small butterflies that had invaded her stomach had grown, beating against her stomach in a panicked rhythm. She tried to steady her breathing as she thought of what might happen once they reached her flat. 

"Bloody Merlin Granger, couldn't move past your Gryffindor Tower days could you? How many stairs are there?" 

"Whatever happened to "perfect gentlemen"? Besides, we're almost there," Hermione replied, internally laughing at Draco's frustration. 

Before Draco could reply, Hermione stopped in front of a heavy looking, studded metal door. 

"I guess it's safe to assume no one is getting inside unless you want them to," Draco observed with a very ungentleman like snort. 

"You know, Draco, I'm starting to have serious doubts about your gentlemanly claims," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "Safety should be of the upmost importance of any homeowner," she continued, wondering what it was about her front door that warranted such a reaction from her companion. 

Before Draco could reply, Hermione had swiftly unlocked the door and swung it open, revealing a sliver of the flat that lay behind.   
"You can come in, if you want," Hermione said, perhaps a little meekly, not looking up at him. 

"Well, if you insist I suppose I can make time," Draco said, hoping that his nonchalance veiled his curiosity. He wasn't entirely sure what he expected, other than loads of books. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione surveyed her flat, checking for any obvious imperfections. It was certainly a modest size, a two bedrooms and bathroom with one large living space. The modest kitchen was tucked along one wall with a small island that helped separate it from the rest of the room. There was a small, circular dining table just in front, situated underneath a beautiful crystal chandelier she had found at a muggle flea market. At the far end of the apartment, cozily crammed in front of the fireplace was the living room, a mismatched cluster of chairs and a sofa all brought together by a steamer trunk turned coffee table, one that still read "Granger" on the end. There were little trinkets and decorations throughout that reminded her of everything her life had to offer, memories of past adventures. The rug on the floor was a souvenir found in a dusty open air market in Marrakesh, the bright cushions from a lovely craftswoman she had met in India. At the center of the mantle, she had an intricately crafted boomerang, from one of her visits to Australia, where her parents decided to stay even after their memories had been restored. Last of all, the books. While she had turned the extra bedroom into a study, devoted to containing her library, some books managed to make their way out, finding new homes wherever Hermione put them down last. She supposed it was a lot like Gryffindor Tower had been, warm and cozy, the perfect place to spend rainy afternoons around a fire. 

"Certainly much more pleasant than the dungeons were," Draco commented dryly. 

"Ironic isn't it?" 

"I'm not sure I know what you're on about." 

"It's just that I distinctly remember having read that ferrets live in burrows, only coming above ground to hunt and frolic," Hermione replied, watching as Draco's eyes narrowed at her reminder of his unfortunate transformation during their fourth year. 

"I suppose that was some sorry attempt at humor. In the future it's probably best if you leave that to the Weaselbees," Draco drawled, inspecting his nails in an obvious attempt to appear nonplussed by Hermione's teasing. 

The bizarre nature of the situation was not lost on Hermione, who still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about having Draco Malfoy in her sitting room. He looked so out of place, something that didn't occur very often at all. 

"Would you like tea?" 

"Er, yes, tea would be nice," He answered, turning to look at her full on. 

With that, Hermione hurried around him to put the kettle on the stove, busying herself with the simple task in an effort to distract herself from the awkward air that had filled her flat. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While waiting for the tea to be ready, Draco took the opportunity to further inspect Hermione's flat. He noticed that there were so many small details that were so quintessentially her scattered throughout the flat. There, behind a thin sheet of glass were people, frozen in time. While at first it unsettled him to see the figures in the photographs so still, it seemed that these muggle photographs could capture the essence of a moment just as well as any magical one Draco had ever seen. 

Draco's musings were interrupted by the whistle of the kettle behind him and the gentle clinking of china that followed. 

"A teapot Granger?" He asked, raising a curious eyebrow, "there's only the two of us."

"Would you believe me, Draco, if I told you I had learned to count?" She replied, her voice thick with sarcasm, "furthermore, the proper way to serve tea is with a teapot," she continued, setting everything onto the steamer trunk with a flick of her wand.

"Bloody show-off," Draco muttered under his breath as he chose one of velvet armchairs. 

"Funny, I seem to learning levitating spells first year," she replied, pouring two cups of the amber liquid.

Before he could think twice, Draco had cast the same charm, levitating Hermione's cup of tea somewhere between her arm span and the ceiling.

"Draco Bloody Malfoy! Give me back my tea this instant!" 

"I could, but I think I prefer watching you attempt to get it yourself," he replied, not bothering to hold back his laugh.

"As endearing as it is, I don't appreciate your laughter at a time like this," she half shouted, having had climbed onto the sofa in an attempt to reach the floating teacup 

"So, I'm endearing now? Draco asked, not entirely sure why his voice had suddenly gone so gravelly. 

"Well, er... there are always traits that...er..." Hermione sputtered, refusing to meet his eye.

"It's alright Granger," He whispered, moving so that he could look directly into her eyes.

"Oh, well alright..." She trailed off, distractedly watching his lips.

They stood in a gentle silence for a few moments, until Draco slowly reached out to pull her closer.

Just as their lips were about to meet, the teacup dumped its contents over the both of them during its crash to the floor.


	7. Chapter Seven

The moment they had shared came to an abrupt end, marked with the shattering of the teacup as it reached the wooden floor. It had not, in its rapid descent neglected to empty itself of its contents, leaving both covered in steaming tea. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While Hermione was painfully aware of how close Draco was, she was even more concerned with how transparent her blouse had become now that it was thoroughly drenched. 

"Merlin's fucking beard." Draco groaned, pushing his hair off of his forehead in a manner that made him look humorously similar to his childhood self. 

"You know, I think this makes Seamus Finnegan a truly masterful wizard." she teased, waving her wand once to vanish the rapidly cooling liquid and then again to repair the shattered tea cup.

"Once again, Granger, a failed attempt at humor. Strangely enough, everyone always thought you were a quick learner."

"Everyone, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, half in jest and half genuine curiosity. 

"Honestly Granger, I know that Gryffindor house pride is obnoxiously overstated and all, but you lot never seem to give the rest of us credit."

"Well, Ravenclaws were always terribly studious, and Hufflepuffs tend to make fierce friends."

"And Slytherins are incredibly cunning and clever, we know threats to our obvious superiority when we see them." Draco finished, giving Hermione a sly smile that made it clear he meant no offense. 

“You'd have to be denser than Goyle to not see me as an obvious threat." She replied over her shoulder as she walked towards the kitchen. 

"In that case Granger, let me assure you that you'll never have to worry about that." 

Hermione turned toward him, noticing how his eyes had gone from a molten silver to a stormy grey. Everything about this moment was surreal, having Draco Malfoy in her flat, looking devastatingly handsome, and feeling a magnetic pull that threatened to send her crashing into him if she wasn't careful. She turned away, growing hot under his gaze and feeling like she needed to open a window so that she might breathe deeply again. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Very impressive Draco, drop a sodding cup of tea all over her" Draco cursed himself, watching as Hermione righted everything effortlessly. "What the bollocks is wrong with me? I get within a foot of Granger and suddenly my tact goes to absolute shit." He wondered as Hermione moved away from him. 

This was not like him, it was nearly the opposite in fact. 

"Is there any reason in particular you agreed to go on a blind date, Malfoy?" Hermione asked him, looking up at him so sweetly it made his heart ache. 

"Other than threats made to my life and limbs made by that git, Zabini, I figured it would be an opportunity to at least have a meal outside of my own house for once."

"Oh." she replied, and Draco could tell that there was far more to the question than she was willing to ask. 

"I honestly can't be arsed to hang around in bars and parties waiting for some bimbo to try and charm her way into my bank vault anymore. It's pretty fucking exhausting to be constantly surrounded by people who think of you as an opportunity for their own advancement." 

"I'm sorry, I know exactly what you mean." she answered with a hollow laugh.

"Trust me Hermione, people have been drawn to your light for as long as I've known you." He whispered, rounding the island to stand in front of her. 

"I don't know about that, there weren't many people sending compliments to the insufferable know-it-all." Hermione replied, her voice laced with something like loneliness and eyes cast upon his feet. 

"Damn it Granger, don't listen to anyone who cannot see how brightly you shine." Draco muttered, lifting her chin so that she would meet his eyes. 

Once again, he paused. She really was beautiful, Merlin how badly he had secretly wanted this, but now that he had the chance, it scared the hell out of him.

"You're a Malfoy for fuck's sake, man up and kiss her." Draco thought to himself, mustering up the courage to do the one thing he had been thinking about all night. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione's skin tingled with nothing short of electricity where Draco's hand touched her. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this way, if she had ever even felt this way. Never would she have imagined Draco Malfoy could be so soft towards anyone, let alone Hermione herself. 

When he finally brought his lips to hers, the spark was replaced with a burn. His lips, soft and full, were gentle against hers. Sensing Draco's hesitation, Hermione deepened the kiss, willing Draco to understand how much she wanted this moment to stretch on. She nearly gasped in surprise when his tongue brushed, feather-light, against her lip. She gave him entrance, wanting to drink as much of him in as she possibly could, feeling like she might collapse when he let out a low growl. All too soon, he was pulling away looking down at her with those stormy eyes that made her feel like she was a schoolgirl again.

"Well, this has certainly been a most rewarding night Miss Granger." He purred, giving her a smirk that was worthy of the front page of Witch Weekly. "As lovely as it has been, I should be going as I regretfully have a morning full of meetings ahead of me." he continued, stepping away from Hermione. 

"Thank you, again, for tonight, Draco. It really was lovely." She said, hoping that her smile wouldn't betray the girlish melting she felt.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Merlin's saggy bollocks, don't look at me like that." Draco thought to himself. 

He was trying to do the right thing, leaving before anything got out of hand. Typically he wouldn't have any reservations about shagging on the first date, seeing as typically he had already decided that there wouldn't be a second one anyway. Hermione was different though, she deserved better than that and Gods be damned Draco wasn't going to be the one to slight her that way. 

"I'm pleased that the night was up to your standards, as it proves my obviously perfect training in the art of fine manners." He drawled, hoping that it might make her laugh. When it did, he felt his heart soar in a very un-Draco like manner. 

He had just placed his hand on the door knob when her voice rang out, "Draco, wait." 

He turned, and Hermione was there, placing her hand on his chest and stretching up to capture his lips in a parting kiss.


	8. Chapter Eight

“You KISSED him?!” Ginny Weasley squealed, interrupting Hermione’s retelling of the previous night’s events. 

“Actually, he kissed me first,” Hermione replied, feeling a bit giddy at the thought that she had kissed Draco Malfoy, and that they both seemed to enjoy it. 

“Just so we’re clear, when the two of you get married I expect to be your Head-Bitch-In-Charge,”

“We have been on one date, Ginerva! Besides, shouldn’t you be more concerned with your own wedding; seeing as Blaise should be proposing any day now?” Hermione scolded, getting up out of her bed in the search of a strong cup of tea. 

“Hey, take that up with him, I’ve tried everything short of just buying the ring myself but he can’t seem to just grow the bollocks and do it himself,” 

“I’m sure that he’s just waiting for the right time, Gin,” Hermione said, attempting to soothe her friend’s frustration 

“If he doesn’t find it soon I’ll be carried down the aisle in my own casket,” she replied, falling into the sofa. “Oi, whose present is this?” 

“First, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? Second, I have no idea what you’re talking about, I don’t have a gift for anyone,” 

“Well then, how do you explain this?” Ginny replied, holding up a small box wrapped in crimson paper and tied with a gold ribbon that shimmered in the light. 

“Where did you get that? I’ve never seen it before,” Hermione stammered, taking the box from her friend

“It was here, on your trunk. Now what are you waiting for, open it!” 

Hermione fingered the bow cautiously, biting her lip before giving the end of the ribbon a gentle tug. The ribbon fell away, and she lifted the lid to reveal a single teacup. 

“A teacup? Who on earth would send a bloody teacup?” 

Hermione chose to ignore Ginny, lifting the delicate cup out of its protective case and admiring it’s beautiful decoration. It had beautiful peonies, blooming to reveal their gilded centres. Each bloom and bud was surrounded by a delicate lace of leaves and stems, creating a pattern so beautiful and intricate it must’ve been created with some sort of magic. She was sure she knew exactly who had sent this to her, but didn’t want to give Ginny any extra reasons to begin fantasizing about her nuptials. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To say Draco Malfoy was distracted would be an understatement. 

He knew that he should be more focused on what his board members had to say but he was too busy trying to not think about Hermione. 

He hoped that his gift hadn’t been over the top, and that she actually knew it was from him. Damn it all to hell, women were so complicated. Draco would not appear desperate for her attention, he wasn’t Cormac McLaggen after all. Despite trying to make himself believe that there was no reason he should be so infatuated with her, he knew damn well there were plenty why he was. 

It wasn’t just her beauty, Merlin was she beautiful, it was her grace and wit and charm and the way that she said his name which was altogether angelic unlike the squat balding man who had been wheezing at him for the past hour.

“Well gentlemen, this has been most enlightening. I trust that you all understand the Malfoy vision and what we need to do to advance the company,” Draco said, stifling a yawn

“But...Mr. Malfoy...profits...investments...image…” 

“Full confidence, good sir,” Draco insisted, rising to his full height and extending his hand to shake the other man’s smaller, clammy one. 

Without giving pause for protests, Draco turned on his heel and exited the boardroom, in the mood for a strong drink. 

“Hold my owls, I have an appointment out of the office,” Draco called to his secretary as he pushed into his office, swiftly locking the door. He paused at his desk thinking of sending an owl but decided against it; stepping into the floo and calling out his destination.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“What in the bloody hell are you doing in my sitting room, Draco?” Blaise asked as Draco brushed the soot off of his suit and stepped out of the fireplace. 

“Lovely to see you as well, Zabini,” he replied, refusing to acknowledge his friend’s surprise. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, didn’t you have some big thing at work to take care of?”

“You see, the joy of being in charge is that you can always find someone else to do the things you can’t be bothered to do,” he replied, helping himself to his host’s liquor cabinet. 

“I know we’re mates and all, but you can’t just pop over and drink my liquor whenever you fancy! What if I would’ve been doing something important?”

“Blaise, mate, wanking to yourself in the mirror hardly counts as anything important.” 

Draco settled into an armchair, barely paying attention to his companion. 

“What the fuck? Is that a Harpies mug?” Draco asked, noticing an obnoxious mug flashing the team’s logo. 

“It’s not mine, I swear, Drake.”

“Then whose is it? 

“Well, whose do you bloody reckon it is, you dense ferret?” Ginny Weasley responded, entering the room looking uncharacteristically distracted. 

“Always a pleasure, Miss Weasley” Draco replied, wondering how long the Weaselette had been there. 

“Anyway, I popped over to see if you fancied lunch, Zabini. I have business things to discuss with you but may faint from hunger.” 

“Uh, sure Drake, let me grab my coat” Blaise replied, shooting a confused glance in Draco’s direction.


	9. Chapter Nine

“So Zabini, I see that the enemy has managed to infiltrate your stronghold.” Draco drawled, sinking into his favorite squishy leather chair, at his favorite table, in his favorite pub in Wizard London. 

“I hope you don’t honestly think that Ginny is the enemy, Drake. Besides, we both thought that it made more sense to live together when we were always splitting our time between flats anyway.” 

“How positively pragmatic of you mate,” Draco replied, rolling his eyes at Blaise’s obvious attempt to minimize the significance of his relationship. “Honestly Blaise, I’m glad you found Ginny, you seem much happier and she seems much less likely to kill me. I’d say it’s a true match made in Heaven.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s a good thing then.” Blaise chuckled, peering thoughtfully at his menu. 

“Come off it, what’s going on, Zabini? You and I both know that you’re ordering the Beef Wellington with a side of mash, so I highly doubt that you’re having a very compelling read of today’s specials.”

“It’s not anything big, I’m just...well, I’m….I’m thinking that I’m going to ask Ginny to marry me after the gala this weekend.” 

“Well, have you found the bloody ring yet?” 

“What? Draco, are you feeling alright?”

“Plain peachy, mate, why do you ask?” 

“It’s just, I’ve told you I’m going to marry Ginny Weasley and you haven’t fallen down dead.”

“We’ve been over this, you idiot. Ginny makes you happy, you make her happy. I can’t think of a better recipe for marriage, and I’m a master potions maker. I promise I haven’t been holding a torch for you all these years, and I definitely haven’t been interested in your lover, so I can think of no logical reason to object to such a union.” 

“Alright then, cheers mate.” Blaise said, grinning at his friend and raising his glass. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione Granger was rarely at a loss for words, but staring down at the parchment in front of her made her feel as dense as a pile of bricks. 

“Oh come on, Hermione, it’s just a thank you note. He sent you a beautiful teacup, he took you on a lovely date, you had a wonderful time. That’s not very difficult to say.”

Slowly, she dipped the nib of her quill into her inkwell, paused to hover over the page, then began to write. 

“Dear Draco,  
Thank you for the lovely gift, it will certainly find a lovely home in my cupboard. Thank you for the pleasant company last night as well.” 

“How bloody pedantic of you.” She thought to herself, looking over the note and trying to figure out how to make it seem less like a letter from a Gringotts goblin. Before she had formulated a better response, a delicate tawny owl had begun tapping on the window above her desk. 

Hermione reached up and opened the window, allowing the small bird to hop inside and extend its leg so that she could untie the scroll of fine parchment that had been tied there. 

“Hermione Jean Granger,   
It is our pleasure to cordially invite you to a Gala  
Celebrating 150 years of A. Malfoy and Sons  
to be held on the   
Eighth of October  
at 7:00pm.

Black Tie dress is required”

She scanned the short invitation a few times, feeling butterflies beating against her ribcage each time she read, “Malfoy”, unaware of the slight smile that had begun to spread over her lips. 

Suddenly, Hermione heard a loud roar from her living room followed by the call of a familiar voice. 

“Get out here, loser! We’re going shopping!” 

“I’m going to assume that this isn’t a spontaneous trip, Ginerva?” 

“Obviously not,’Mione. You’re going to go to the Gala, and you’re going to look like the hottest witch alive while you do it. Draco Malfoy is going to be faint at the sight of your immense beauty.” Ginny replied, ending with a flourish as she lowered herself into an armchair. 

“Honestly, Ginny, I hadn’t given much thought to going yet.”   
“Hermione Granger, you are going to go to that gala; even if it’s just so that you can drink free alcohol and eat rich people food. Besides, Blaise and I are going to be there, so I’m confident that it will be tolerable enough for you to enjoy yourself.” 

“Well, I suppose it might be fun to dress up for a change.” Hermione conceded, hiding her small smile from her friend. 

“That’s what I thought, now I do believe we have some dresses to buy, and I know just the place to find them!” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Now Blaise, there are 5 c’s to buying a proper diamond. I’m not really certain what they are, but I’m sure that we’ll know the perfect one when we see it.” Draco said, coming to a stop outside of an expensive looking storefront that glittered in the sunlight. “This, mate, is the finest jeweler in the entirety of the wizarding world. The Malfoy family has had their goblins on retainer for generations now.” 

“Alright then, Drake. Let’s just hope that I have enough money in my vault to come out of here with something up to your high standards.” Blaise replied, rolling his eyes and pulling open the door to the luxe showroom. 

Draco found the next two hours quite amusing, pointing out the largest, gaudiest rings that he could find. He could tell how nervous his friend was though, and wondered what it might be like to feel that way. Draco had never seriously considered marrying anyone, especially once the War had ended and he was released from his previously arranged match. 

“Oi, Malfoy, what do you think about this one?” 

Blaise was holding a delicate ring, a simple round diamond with a band of gold holding it in place. It was understated and elegant, clearly expensive but not over the top. 

“I think it’s perfect, Zabini. I can’t imagine anyone saying no to that; even if it is Weasley.” Draco answered, feeling genuinely happy for his friend. 

Draco hadn’t ever given marriage much serious thought. Before the end of the War it was assumed he would be married off to a “proper” pureblood family. When Voldemort lost, all of that flew out the window, not that Draco really minded. He’d never really fancied himself the type to be trapped in a loveless marriage, slaving away just for the sake of continuing the Malfoy bloodline. 

“What’s it like? Actually wanting to bid bachelorhood farewell for all eternity?” He asked, trying to make his voice as light as possible.   
“It’s brilliant. There’s nothing better than coming home to a warm bed and good conversation. There’s no bed worth sleeping in if I’m sleeping alone.” 

“Alright, Blaise, now I think you’re embellishing a bit. I can’t imagine that having someone else to steal the blankets makes for a very comfortable sleep.” 

“That’s the brilliant part, Drake. When you’re sleeping with someone next to you, you only need half the blankets anyway.” Blaise replied, pushing the door open, a small box safely tucked into his pocket. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Gin, I’m really starting to think that this is a hopeless pursuit.” Hermione complained through the thick velvet curtains of the dress shop Ginny had dragged her too. 

Everything was much too fussy for Hermione’s liking. She didn’t want to feel like some sort of fancy dessert but everything that the saleswitch had brought her had been a monstrosity of lace and sequins that made Hermione feel itchy and hot. 

“Nonsense, ‘Mione, there’s still loads that we haven’t even looked at yet!” 

Hermione internally groaned, knowing there was no way Ginny would let her leave the shop without a dress. She pulled her clothes back on, deciding that she’d rather search for herself than let the shop assistant assault her with armfuls of dresses. 

She wandered through the racks, pausing every so often to inspect a dress before deciding that, yet again it wasn’t the one for her. She had nearly resigned herself to wearing something that resembled Ron’s dress robes from the Yule Ball when she saw a sliver of scarlet silk peeking out from a crowded rack. 

She parted the mass of dresses to get a better look at the dress and immediately she knew it was the one she wanted. 

“Gin, I’ve found it!” Hermione squealed, holding the dress up in front of her. 

“Oh Hermione, it’s beautiful! If you wear that, Malfoy is going to have to fight his way through a mob just to dance with you.” Ginny replied, giggling. 

Hermione tried the dress on, reveling in the way the fabric felt slipping over her body. She was amazed when it fit her perfectly, as if it had been made specially for her. 

Before she could think twice, Hermione had paid for the dress and was carrying a luxurious box out of the shop.   
“Well, lovey, I would say that we’ve had a very productive day. What do you say we get some take out and some of those funny muggle things you put on your face?”

“Do you mean sheet masks?” Hermione asked, laughing at her friend’s confusion, “Sounds like a perfect plan, Gin.” 

The two linked their free arms together and vanished from the cobblestoned street with nothing but a small pop.


	10. Chapter Ten

A week later, Hermione Granger found herself overwhelmed by a ginger whirlwind. 

“‘Mione, hurry up! We don’t have time to waste, the gala starts in 5 hours and you haven’t even gotten in the shower yet!” 

Hermione couldn’t help but be amused by her friend’s hovering; she was far more like Molly than she would ever willingly admit. She decided that it wasn’t worth trying to fight Ginny on this matter and quickly made her way to her bathroom for a long shower. 

To her surprise, and Ginny’s credit, the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. It had taken Ginny quite some time to artfully twirl and loop her hair into an elegant updo, ages for her nails to dry, and seemingly centuries to carefully brush on her makeup. 

When it came time to get dressed, Hermione found herself imagining what her encounter with Draco might be like. She hadn’t had the time to see him since their first date, it seemed that the entire Ministry had exploded onto her desk, and hoped that the initial connection would still be intact. 

“Oi, until you’re in your bloody dress and shoes, no daydreaming!” Ginny scolded her, ending her romantic imaginings. 

“Well then, come over me so you can help get this bloody dress on and zipped, Ginevra.” 

As Hermione slipped into her dress, she felt more beautiful than ever. 

“Hot damn, d’you reckon this dress was enchanted? You look incredible!” 

“Thanks Gin,” Hermione replied, smiling, “Now, we’d better get moving if we want to be on time to meet Blaise,” she continued, linking arms with her companion and heading toward the floo. 

 

“I’ll have a shot of Firewhisky.” Draco Malfoy muttered, waiting for the bartender to pour him something strong enough to put his nerves at ease. 

He hoped, more than he would actually admit, that Hermione would be at the Gala tonight; damning whoever decided they wouldn’t be asking for RSVPs. Try as he might, Draco hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. 

“Good to see you, mate.” Blaise greeted him, clapping him on the shoulder and ordering himself a drink as well. 

“You Malfoys really don’t do anything subtly, do you?” Blaise snorted, gesturing to the grand chandeliers and silver canopies cascading around the ballroom. 

“If we stop, we’ll die, Zabini. That is beside the point though, I seem to remember you having certain plans with a certain witch tonight, whom I don’t see.” 

“Ginny’s in the bathroom with Hermione, she’ll be here in a minute. Although, I don’t appreciate you implying that I’ve lost my game on such a sacred night.”

Before Draco could offer a characteristically sarcastic reply, a flash of scarlet near the door captured his attention. 

 

As Hermione approached the large ballroom doors, she thought she might be sick. 

She had never been this nervous before; not at the Yule Ball, or even when interrogating Death Eaters. 

She was painfully aware that she might be walking towards a painful reality, one that didn’t match her imagination. Draco could’ve found someone else or decided Hermione was worse than a Gringotts goblin. 

“Relax, ‘Mione, it’s only a party. If it sucks, get drunk and leave early.” Ginny whispered, giving her hand a squeeze as they reached the open doorway. 

 

When Draco finally caught sight of Hermione, he knew he was in trouble. He had never seen someone look so devastatingly beautiful in all his life. She seemed to be gleaming with some sort of ethereal grace that put every priceless Malfoy portrait to shame. 

She was wearing a particularly Gryffindor red dress, high necked in a way that highlighted her fine collarbones. The fine silk flowed around her like water, setting Draco’s blood on fire. 

“I hope you’ve gone and ordered me something too, prat.” Ginny reminded Blaise, who suddenly seemed to have gone slightly green and quickly handed over his own drink. 

“May I get you something, Miss Granger?” Draco asked, feeling a little choked. 

“Not just yet, Mr Malfoy” she replied with a small smile and a twinkle in her eyes, “I would really love to dance though.” 

Draco felt his heart soar as Hermione gently took his outstretched arm and followed him to the center of the room. He gently took her in his arms, feeling the warmth radiating off of her and caressing the impossibly soft skin of her exposed back. 

 

“Thank you for inviting me tonight, Draco.” Hermione whispered, looking up at her partner as they spun around the floor. 

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way, Hermione.” He replied, and Hermione hoped he wouldn’t notice the peppering of goosebumps that had risen over her skin. “I have to say, your dress is perfectly suited for Gryffindor Royalty, it’s beautiful.” 

Hermione felt herself blush, warmed further by the chills sent through her body by the contact Draco’s hand had with her spine. 

“I’m certainly glad you like it then”

“Pray tell, Miss Granger, was that your intended effect, demanding my attention? You must have known that looking so beautiful would capture me completely.” Draco growled, setting her on fire. 

Hermione was intoxicated. Everything felt so right, in ways that nothing before ever had. Inside of herself, she felt something shift; this man before her was seemingly everything she had ever dreamed of and she felt compelled to hold tightly to him. 

“Would it really matter if it had been?” she replied, craning her neck so that she could whisper into his ear, enveloped by the scent of his cologne. 

“It would assure me that I wasn’t the only one occupied with thoughts of the other.” 

“Why don’t we go for a walk, Draco, it’s quite warm in this ballroom and the fresh air sounds delightful.” 

Draco gently led Hermione out of the ballroom and through a small door that opened onto a stone balcony overlooking beautiful gardens bathed in soft light streaming through the windows. 

“I haven’t forgotten my question, Hermione.” Draco reminded her, tickling her neck with his breath. 

“Well then, since it vexes you so, I must admit that I certainly hoped you’d still want to see me.” she replied, turning to face him.


	11. Chapter Eleven

“Miss Granger, I must admit you seemed to have bewitched me; I’ve scarcely thought of anything other than you for the past week.” Draco murmured, closing the gap between their bodies with a confident step. 

Hermione shivered when he began lazily tracing the tops of her collarbone with an elegant finger, feather-light against her skin. She thought she might melt into nothingness; delirious with desire for something more. 

“I am, in your words, Mister Malfoy, the Brightest Witch of Our Age; after all.” She replied, raising her eyes to meet his.

 

Draco could see the pride gleaming in Hermione’s eyes, golden and sparkling in the soft light. 

Sweet Merlin, he wanted her. He wanted to drink in every bit of her, to be warmed by her luminosity and held tightly in her embrace. The smouldering lust had been stoked into a wild flame, threatening to quickly burn out of control. 

Before he could stop himself, Draco placed a line of kisses from her shoulder to the hollow between her collarbones. He could have sworn that each time his lips met her delicate skin a shock passed between them. 

“I’ve missed you, Granger.” he whispered, nuzzling her ear. 

Before she had the chance to reply, Draco gently placed a kiss on her neck, just behind her ear, that caused her breath to hitch in her chest. 

 

Hermione could feel herself slipping away, rapidly hurtling toward fulfilling her desires without thinking twice. 

As soon as she had felt Draco’s first kiss on her shoulder, she knew she would gladly give into what her body so desperately wanted. If it wasn’t for this damn Gala and all of these damn people everywhere she was sure they would have progressed to far less proper displays of attraction. 

“Draco,” she breathed, “As intoxicating as this is, don’t you think you should get back to the party? I’m sure there are plenty of people in there hoping to have a chat with you,” she finished, gently kissing him. 

“Fine, Granger, but you’re mad if you think that I’m not going to finish what we started,” he conceded, kissing her again, but this time much deeper. 

Hermione gazed up at him, watching as he tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. She felt sure that she was dreaming, this all seemed too extraordinary to be real. She had always secretly wondered what had earned Draco his “Sex God” status, but never really thought she would ever find out. 

“Well then, Miss Granger, please allow me to accompany you back to the ballroom so that we may rejoin the rest of the guests,” Draco teased, taking her hand in his with a small squeeze. 

 

“Drake, mate, I’m not sure I can do this. What the hell am I going to do if she says no? I’ll look like an absolute arse.” Blaise groaned, throwing back the remaining drink in his glass. 

“Zabini, you can’t be so spineless. If you love her enough to put up with that hideous Harpies mug infecting your cupboard, and she loves you enough to tolerate me; you’ve got nothing to worry about” Draco replied, turning to the bartender and ordering two more shots of firewhiskey. “Here’s to you growing a pair of bollocks and asking the girl to marry you,” he continued, raising his shot before quickly swallowing. 

“I dunno what to say to her though.” 

“How about something like, “I bought this really expensive ring and I’m prepared to spend even more money on a party just so you’ll agree to putting up with such a git for the rest of your days”? I can’t imagine a woman who wouldn’t be swept completely off her feet by such a declaration of love.”

“Sod off Malfoy. This is important!” 

“We’re mates and all, Blaise, but if you think I’m going to let you practice proposing to me you’ve gone round the bend.” 

While Draco certainly wanted Blaise’s proposal to go smoothly, he couldn’t help but wish that he could ignore him and watch Hermione move about the room in peace. It would seem that the gala was being held in her honor the way that people swarmed to her. 

“Oh fuck, Ginny’s coming this way, FUCK.” 

“Well, best of luck. It has been a distinct pleasure to have called you my friend all these years, I’ll do my best not to forget you.” Draco replied, clapping Blaise on the shoulder and stepping aside.   
**********************************************************************************************************

“Where’s the git off to?” Ginny asked her boyfriend, who looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. 

“Oh, erm, there’s a business partner over there that wanted to talk about investments or something.” Blaise stammered. 

“Figures, he always has been dull.” 

Suddenly, Blaise set down his drink and took both of her hands. 

“Let’s go for a walk, love. I happen to know that the Malfoy gardens are unparalleled in their beauty.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Blaise. Let me just grab some drinks and tell Hermione, we’ve been playing a bit of a drinking game; every time one of these horrible old men get caught paying too much attention to younger women we take a drink. It’s a pretty effective way to get drunk, I have to say.” Ginny babbled, trying to flag down the bartender. “I sure hope you won’t try to dump me as soon as I turn into one of those old bags.” she continued, giving Blaise a firm pat on the bum, before picking up the drinks she had ordered. 

“Of course not, Gin, now let’s go drop off the latest round.” Blaise replied, punctuating his statement with a kiss on her cheek. 

Ginny wove her way through the crowd, easily finding her friend, unabashedly staring at Malfoy from across the room. 

“Oi, you’d better put Malfoy’s clothes back on, or you’re sure to be drooling.” She whispered, passing Hermione one of the flutes of champagne she was holding. 

Hermione’s only reply was a small squeak and a roll of her eyes. 

“Come on ‘Mione, you’re not even trying to hide your infatuation. Frankly, I’m happy for you; it’s been far too long since you’ve had a good shagging.” 

“Ginevra Weasley, don’t you have something better to do than poke fun at me?” Hermione replied, taking a gulp of her drink. 

“How right you are, love, Blaise and I are going for a romantic moonlit stroll through the gardens, so I’ll have to duck out on you for a few minutes.” Ginny answered, wagging her eyebrows as she turned away from Hermione, taking hold of Blaise’s arm as they moved toward the exit.   
Sure enough, Blaise had been right about the gardens. He had led them down a small gravel path to a stone bench surrounded by fragrant rose bushes. Ginny was happy to see somewhere to sit, she had never been one for heels and by now her feet were practically screaming for mercy. 

Blaise quietly settled on the bench next to her, silently lifting her feet into his lap, gently rubbing them. 

“This really is beautiful, love. Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“Anything for you, Gin. I love you.” he replied, gently kissing her. 

“Dear Merlin, I love this man,” Ginny thought to herself, reaching out to tenderly touch his cheek.

Suddenly, Blaise stood up and stepped directly in front of where she was sitting. 

“What’s going on? I know my feet can smell sometimes, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” She asked, grinning at him. 

“I love you Ginny. More than I’ve ever loved anything; hell, probably more than anyone has ever loved anything. I can’t bear the thought of spending a day without you. You bring such joy and happiness to my life, love, you’ve made me happier than I ever could have imagined.” 

Despite years spent in a household full of boys, Ginny felt tears beginning to well in her eyes. 

“You are more beautiful than any of these roses could ever hope to be; shine brighter than all of the stars. You are my beginning and my end, marry me Ginny. Please.” He finished, lowering himself to one knee and presenting her with a beautiful diamond ring.


	12. Chapter Twelve

“Of course you bloody git. Of course I’ll marry you!” Ginny cried, throwing her arms around Blaise’s neck and pulling him close. 

“Thank fuck for that” he murmured into her ear, and Ginny could hear his smile. 

“I was beginning to think you would never ask me,” she continued as she studied the dainty ring that he had slipped onto her finger. 

“Honestly, if not for Draco dragging me to the jewler, I may have never been able to find the nerve to do it. It’s bloody terrifying asking the sole daughter of a family full of men to marry you, no matter how sure you are of the answer.”

“Damn, now I have to thank the ferret for doing something kind.” 

“Gin, is that really your first reaction? If not for that ferret, you wouldn’t have that ring, miss.” Blaise teased, taking her hand in his. 

“You know how much it hurts me to be graceful, Zabini. It’s a right miracle that you’re willing to marry me despite my obvious rough edges.” 

“I’d say it’s a right miracle that your edges fit perfectly against mine.” Blaise replied, giving Ginny a gentle kiss and pulling her tight against his chest. 

 

The gala had suddenly become much less interesting once Hermione had lost her companion. The constant dull roar of voices and music had begun to give her a headache, and the heels that Hermione had chosen were proving to be increasingly impractical. 

Tired of waiting for something exciting to happen, Hermione decided to take a walk around the Manor in search of somewhere quiet she could rest her feet. 

 

Draco watched as Hermione made her way toward the ballroom doors, feeling his heart drop as her form slipped out of his view. 

“Damn it! She can’t be leaving!” He thought to himself, cursing the ancient businessman that had demanded his attention for the past half-hour. 

“You must excuse me, Mr Roberts, but there seems to be a houseplant that has spontaneously combusted over there; having the party burn down is surely a faux pas, old chap” Draco interrupted, giving the man his best smile and a firm handshake before ducking into the crowd. 

He didn’t pay any attention to anyone else as he rushed to follow Hermione, only pausing to grab two flutes of champagne from a tuxedoed waiter. 

As he stepped out into the hall, he couldn’t find Granger anywhere among the small groups of people who had gathered to have quieter chats. 

“Damn you, Granger.” He muttered, setting off down one of the long hallways sure that she couldn’t have gotten very far. 

 

As the finely carved door swung open, Hermione let out a small squeal of delight. She had stumbled upon the Manor’s library, one that rivaled even Hogwarts in its size. 

She had heard stories about the size of the Malfoy collection from Aurors who had been sent to inspect it after the War, but had never seen it herself. There were two floors, lined in shelves full of beautifully bound books in every language imaginable. The middle of the room was dotted with display cases that illuminated priceless editions, most were the only known copies of the text, work tables, and at the far end sofas arranged around a fireplace that pulled her towards its roaring flames. 

Hermione settled onto one of the gray velvet couches, immediately thankful to have found somewhere so luxurious to relax a bit. Reaching over to pick through the pile of books left on the coffee table in front of her, she was surprised to find one of her favorites. Lulled by the quiet and fire, she kicked off her heels, tucking her feet underneath her and began to read. 

 

Draco stopped, mid step in his terror through the Manor. 

“You bloody idiot, where else would Hermione Granger be?” he thought to himself, quickly turning on his heel and stalking back down the corridor. 

He felt his pulse quicken as he approached the door to the library, silently praying that Hermione would actually be there. 

 

Hermione wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she heard the door to the library open. 

“I thought I might find you here, Granger.” Draco smiled, crossing the room to join her on the sofa. 

“I’m sorry, Draco, I decided I needed a break from the party and ended up getting a little distracted by your legendary library.” She smiled, closing her finger in her book so that she wouldn’t lose her place. 

“Well, Miss Granger it seems that great minds do, in fact think alike,” Draco replied, gently handing her a flute of champagne before gesturing toward the book in her hand, “I see you’ve found one of my favorites.” 

“Really? You’ve read Plath?” Hermione asked in disbelief. 

“Is your opinion of me that little? Honestly, Granger, I’m wounded,” he teased, rolling his eyes at her, “Anywho, yes I’ve read Plath. Her fiction is quite remarkable in its humanity and depiction of Esther’s inner workings” he finished, punctuating his statement with a sip. 

“You really are full of surprises, aren’t you, Draco Malfoy?” Hermione giggled, finding yet another reason Draco ticked off more boxes than she ever expected. 

The two spent the next few moments in a comfortable silence, enveloped by the comfortable warmth of the fire and the chemical relaxation of the alcohol. All of the alcohol Hermione had consumed over the course of the night seemed to finally catch up with her, filling her with a burning confidence and desire she had never known. 

Before she could stop herself, she reached out to Draco, pulling him close and capturing his lips with hers. When he kissed her back, snaking his arms around her to caress the skin above her spine, the book tumbled to the floor, forgotten along with any reservations. 

Hermione felt herself being lifted into Draco’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, determined to keep him close to her. He continued his assault on her sensitive skin, tracing along the edge of the low back of her dress with a touch so featherlight. 

 

“Fuck,” Draco thought to himself as he lifted Hermione into his lap.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as she kissed him. 

It had been a while since he’d actually shagged anyone, and his frequent thoughts of what Granger might look like under all of her clothes had plagued him with frequent bouts of tightness in his trousers. He wasn’t sure if he had it in him to stop himself from laying her down on the sofa and having his way with her.   
He began tracing invisible patterns across the skin of her back, delighting in the little mew she let out when he stroked the nape of her neck. He knew damn well he was sporting a painfully hard erection and that Hermione could probably feel it underneath her, but he was too desperate to feel her underneath him to be modest. 

Feeling encouraged by the way she pulled him closer, he snaked a hand under the red silk of her full skirt. 

He gently caressed her thigh, dragging his fingers higher until he reached her hip, exactly where her knickers should have been. 

“Merlin Granger, what kind of knickers are you wearing, Minx?” he groaned into her kisses. 

“I’m not, Draco.” she breathed back, causing him to choke in surprise. 

At that, Draco knew it was all over. He pushed Hermione off of him so that she was laying back upon the sofa, loosening his tie as well. 

“I told you we weren’t finished, Princess.” He growled, lifting the hem of her skirt so that he could get more acquainted with Hermione Granger. 

Draco was savoring the taste of her skin, making his way up her thigh toward her core, trying to make this moment last as long as he could. He could feel her breathing grow more shallow as he made his slow ascent and knew that she wanted this as much as he did. 

Just as Draco reached the top of her leg, the door to the library burst open. 

“Drake, mate, I’M ENGAGED!” Blaise bellowed from the doorway, oblivious to the slew of death threats swirling through Draco’s head.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Draco Malfoy had never fancied himself a murder, but Blaise was dancing dangerously close to the edge of his patience. 

“Is that right? Cheers, Mate.” Draco croaked, trying his best to get his raging hard on under control before his friend came too close. 

“You know, I really owe it all to you. If you hadn’t dragged me to that jeweler and had this party I’m not sure I ever would’ve done it.” Blaise rambled, collapsing into a nearby armchair obviously unaware of his interruption. 

“Congratulations, Blaise,” Hermione chimed in, “Only, where’s Ginny then?”.

“Oh, she wanted to stop by the bar and grab some drinks before she came to tell you...Shit. Pretend like you haven’t heard about the engagement yet, I wasn’t supposed to mention it until she got here.” Blaise added sheepishly. 

Seconds later Ginny pushed into the room, precariously carrying a round of drinks for them all. Draco graciously accepted the tumbler full of amber liquid, needing something strong to distract him from Granger’s blush and the thoughts of everything that could have been. 

“Well?” 

“Well, what, Gin?” Hermione asked, giggling at the redhead’s frustration. 

“Well aren’t either of you going to comment on the new ROCK weighing down my left hand?” she replied, holding her hand out and giving her fingers a little wiggle. 

“Oh, Ginny, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you!” Hermione squealed, jumping up and embracing her friend. 

As Draco and Blaise silently raised their glasses to each other, Draco was reminded of how lucky he was to have been born a man. 

“Wait, how did you manage to track the two of them down and drag them all the way here before I got here?” Ginny asked, turning to interrogate her new fiancé. 

“There were already here when I got here, Gin. I only found them because old Abraxas told me that he had seen Draco duck in here” 

“Oh, I surely hope we weren’t interrupting anything then,” Ginny said, shooting Hermione a look Draco couldn’t understand and pulled Blaise up by his tie, “we’d better be getting back to the ballroom now, wouldn’t want to miss all the good songs.” She continued, dragging Blaise back to hallway before closing the door behind them.   
Draco Malfoy had never fancied himself attracted to Ginny Weasley, but just then he could kiss her. 

“Well then, Granger, where were we?” Draco whispered as he rose to stand behind Hermione in front of the fire. 

“In an intoxicatingly compromising position, Mr. Malfoy. However, it seems that our interruption was a reminder of how easily someone could stumble upon the library just like I did.” Hermione reminded him as she turned to look up at him. 

“Alright Granger, I suppose you’re right. I think our only option now is to take our activities back to yours.” Draco smirked, kissing her full on the mouth and grabbing a handful of floo powder from the mantle before pulling Hermione into the flames with him. 

 

Hermione all but tumbled out of her fireplace, dizzy from champagne and the smell of Draco’s cologne. 

“Whoever said you were invited here, Draco Malfoy?” Hermione asked, smiling into Draco’s kisses. 

“Whoever said I give a damn, Granger?” He replied, hoisting her up so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. “Which way is the bloody bedroom? I’ve got a mind to just having my way with you on the couch, Hermione.” 

“It’s the last door down the hall.” she gasped, as Draco sucked on the hollow between neck and collarbone. 

It had been a frustratingly long time since Hermione had been intimate with anyone, and her few most recent encounters had been largely disappointing. She found herself secretly hoping that Draco’s reputation would not let her down. 

Draco pushed through the door to her bedroom, never taking his mouth off of her, before gently laying her on the bed. 

“I think it’s high time to get this damn dress off of you, as beautiful as you look in it.” Draco whispered, tugging down the zip and stroking the sliver of skin it revealed. 

Hermione hungrily reached for his tie, pulling Draco to her lips before tugging at the knot and letting the piece of gray silk fall to the floor. She desperately wanted to feel him underneath her, to revel in his warmth and embrace for as long as she could. 

She pushed his jacket off of his shoulders and began working on undoing the buttons of his crisp white shirt as Draco continued his assault on her senses. He gave a little grunt, lifting her so that he could pull the dress down over her hips. 

“Sweet Merlin, Hermione, you’re so fucking perfect.” He breathed against her skin, covering as much as he could with gentle kisses. 

“As sweet of a sentiment as that is, I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the only one undressed.” Hermione whined, tugging at the waist of his pants. 

“Well, Minx, why don’t you finish the job then?” Draco replied, smirking down at her with a gleam in his eye that was anything other than innocent. 

“I’m certainly glad to see you aren’t worried to Slytherin to my bed, Malfoy.” Hermione grinned, enjoying the scowl that she earned from Draco. There was something unspeakably enjoyable about getting under his skin. 

“Just for that, Granger, I’ll have to give you a swat or two on your pert little bottom.”He growled, flipping her over and pressing his weight onto her, “Scared, pet?” he whispered into her ear.

“You wish, Malfoy.” Hermione replied, wiggling against him. 

“I can assure you, princess, you will be when you find out what I can do with my mouth.” 

 

A few hours later, Draco Malfoy was a very happy man. 

Sex with Hermione had been completely different than it had been with any other witch. She was so soft and sweet, tender and warm under his touch. He wished that he could bottle up some of her essence, whatever it was that made her so quintessentially her, so quintessentially pure and light. 

“Was it worth missing the rest of your party?” Hermione asked him, turning to look at him from her nest of pillows and blankets. 

“Morgana, yes, Hermione. There isn’t a place on Earth I’d rather be than in this bed, with you.” He answered, pulling her close to his chest. 

“D’you want some tea?” 

“What? Granger, I literally just said that I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”   
“I know, and I agree, but I also really think a cup of tea would be nice.” she babbled, rolling on top of his chest, gazing up at him with the biggest brown eyes he had ever seen. 

“Well, alright, one cup of tea, then it’s straight back to bed.” Draco conceded, giving Hermione a swat on her bum as she climbed out of the bed. 

“Hey! That wasn’t very polite of you, Draco Malfoy.” 

“I warned you, Granger, maybe this will serve as a lesson to never joke about being a Slytherin.” 

“You know, I think you’re right, there’s plenty of you to make a joke out of Slytherin without my help.” She teased, before running out of the room. 

Draco was quick to follow, catching up with her quickly and lifting her into his arms.

“Now I’ve got you, Granger. I’m not letting you go until you apologize for slighting Slytherin House.”

“Maybe that was the plan, Malfoy.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

When Hermione Granger looked up at him with those bloody eyes of hers and spoke in that bloody whisper, Draco thought his heart may very well beat out of his chest. As much as he wanted to haul Hermione straight back to bed and shag her until she couldn’t walk straight for saying something so intimate to him, he found himself distracted by the comfort he felt just watching her flit about her small kitchen. 

“What the fuck is happening? Why the fuck do I go weak-kneed every time she glances at me?” He thought to himself, feeling a small crease beginning to form in his brow. 

“Is everything alright, Draco?” the small witch asked, a mixture of confusion and concern clouding her pretty face. 

“Well, besides the fact that you’ve dragged me out of bed, just when I was getting comfortable, there is absolutely nothing wrong,” Draco replied, giving her a genuine smile, deciding that he didn’t give a damn if being completely infatuated with Granger made him the biggest fool on Earth. 

“You should smile more often, Draco.” 

“While I do appreciate your advice, it is my professional opinion that the world should present me with reasons to smile more often.” 

“Perhaps then, you just need to be a little more diligent about finding all of the little things the world presents us with. There are plenty of times a day that I’m reminded of how special it is to be passing a blooming flower, or how lovely it is that there are still people who take the time to feed pigeons.” 

“As romantic as that may be, Hermione, I’m not sure anyone would trust some loon who spent his time running about finding strange things to smile about.” 

“Well then, Draco, maybe you can start by just smiling when you have your tea,” Hermione replied, setting a familiar cup on the counter in front of him before walking back to her bedroom, absentmindedly picking up a book she had left on the hall table. 

 

Snuggled up under her fluffy duvet (one of the few luxuries Hermione Granger could not live without) nursing a steaming cup of tea with one of her favorite books, and wrapped in the embrace of none other than Draco Malfoy. Hermione really could not believe her luck. 

“What are you reading, you insatiable bookworm?” Draco asked, giving her a playful poke. 

“Oh, it’s The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe,” she replied, showing him the well-worn cover over her shoulder. 

“So it is. Only, what do those three things have to do with each other? Is it a boggart?” 

Hermione couldn’t repress the giggle that slipped out. “No, it’s not a boggart. It’s about siblings who find a magical kingdom in a wardrobe at a house they’re staying in. The Lion and the Witch are fighting for control of the kingdom.” 

“That’s completely implausible, Hermione.”

“Draco, you do realize that we are capable of performing magic using special sticks that do implausible things when we wave them around and mutter strange things, don’t you?” 

“Naturally, Hermione. That wasn’t my point though, witch. It is completely implausible that there could be an entire kingdom hidden in some musty wardrobe. The biggest closet in Europe is at the Manor and only two people have ever gotten completely lost in it.” 

“But it’s a magical kingdom in a magical wardrobe, Draco.” 

“Just because you tack “magical” onto something,” Draco answered, rolling his eyes at Hermione’s emphasis, “does not mean that it defies the laws of magic itself. Even the bloody Room of Requirement isn’t capable of sustaining an entire kingdom and it’s infinitely bigger than any muggle wardrobe.” 

“The wardrobe itself doesn’t actually sustain the kingdom, rather it’s like a portkey that lets the children in.” 

“Oh, jolly, now there’s an autonomous kingdom that, in the middle of a civil war, has decided to open its arms to children. I may be a self-centred arse, but I would never think of luring children to armed conflict.” 

“Oh...erm...that’s not the point of it though! The kingdom needed humans to overthrow the White Witch!” Hermione exclaimed, feeling a blush rising over her chest while Draco looked as nonplussed as ever. 

“Well of course, then, this bloody magical kingdom was just looking for fresh martyrs then. I’m beginning to question the moral case of whomever thought this made for a compelling story, dear.” 

“You. Are. So. Infuriating.” Hermione huffed, making a show out of opening her book and attempting to find her place again. 

“My, my. If anything has ever screamed, “take me now, Draco Malfoy” it would certainly be the passion rolling off of you in waves, pet.” Draco whispered, brushing her hair away from her neck and renewing his assault on her senses. 

Hermione was stubborn though, she did not want to let him win, at least not yet. She did her best to concentrate on the words, staring at the pages and desperately hoping the words might suddenly order themselves into her brain. 

Quickly, she had given up trying to read. There was no way she could stop herself from being distracted by the kisses and nips Draco had begun trailing over her shoulders, so instead she had resorted to turning the pages whenever she felt like a reasonable enough time had passed. 

Despite her determination, Hermione couldn’t help it when a shiver passed through her body as Draco ran a finger down her spine. 

“I’m trying to read, Draco.” She whined through gritted teeth. 

“And I’m trying to bring you back to bed with me, Hermione.” he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of her ear with each word. 

“Really? While I’m sure that would be positively magical, I’m not convinced it’s an entirely plausible plan.” Hermione replied, hoping that her voice was light and flippant. 

While it had taken an immense effort not to break under his careful ministrations, Hermione felt a surge of self-satisfaction upon hearing Draco mutter something that sounded like, “swot” under his breath. 

 

Her celebration was short lived, however as Draco had never been one to practice much patience. 

He maneuvered himself around Hermione so that he could capture her small body under his own. 

“You’d be smart to trust that I can do entirely implausible and completely magical things to you, witch.” He growled, punctuating his statement with a firm kiss. 

He moved on, trailing featherlight kisses across her abdomen, knowing that he had won when finally, she let out a delicate mew that seemed to slip out of her throat. 

Sometime later, while absentmindedly stroking Hermione’s silken curls, Draco found himself unable to refrain from teasing her one last time about her bloody book (the same that had quickly tumbled to the floor, forgotten, he might add). 

“What d’you reckon we might stumble upon if we had a shag in a wardrobe?” 

“A wand, shoved so far up your arse that even the most experienced healers of St. Mungo’s would consider it a medical anomaly, Malfoy.” Hermione replied, her words muffled by the pillow she had buried her face in. 

“While I appreciate your comfort with discussing kink, princess, I think I’ll be using the safeword for this one.” He grinned, kissing her head and pulling her back against his chest before settling into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

The morning after the gala, Draco Malfoy arrived for breakfast with his mother and found that an alarmingly pleasant air had fallen upon the Manor. On every table there was a vase overflowing with fresh cut flowers and all of the heavy velvet curtains had been thrown open to let sunlight stream into the rooms. 

Draco cautiously made his way to the breakfast room, confident that his mother would be waiting with some “delightful” news about something or another. 

“Good Morning, Dragon,” Narcissa cooed, looking up from her newspaper to greet him. 

“Good Morning, Mother,” Draco replied, unable to decipher what was going on in his mother’s blond head. “To what do we owe this splendor?” he asked, deciding that a direct line of questioning was the quickest route to an answer. 

“Everything is simply so wonderful, Draco. Dear Blaise is engaged, the flowers in the garden have all reached full bloom, and your grandfather mentioned that you snuck off with a woman last night.”

Draco nearly choked on his orange juice. That damned snoop, of course he had told Draco’s mother. 

“How long were you going to hide your mystery girl from me, Dearest?” 

“It’s not anything serious, Mother, I’ve only seen her a few times and would appreciate it if you didn’t assume that it was time to launch into wedding planning.” 

“Well, that may be, Draco, but from your grandfather’s observations it seems that you’ll be bringing home a bride by year’s end.” His mother finished, peering at him knowingly. 

 

“I cannot believe that you snuck off with Draco in the middle of his gala, Hermione! You must be a total goddess to command that much influence over him.” Ginny teased, taking a sip from her mimosa. 

“Oh sweet Merlin, Ginny, Can’t we just have a typical brunch without talking about things that may, or may not have occured with Draco Malfoy?” Hermione complained, but knew that a traitorous red glow was surely creeping its way over her body by now. 

She found herself wishing that she was still buried under the covers with Draco rather than facing Ginny’s inquisition. “You’re starting to remind me of Umbridge with all of these probing questions.” Hermione added, pointing at her companion with her fork. 

“Fine, then. If Draco is off limits we’ll just focus on more important things, primarily; the planning of my hen do.” the redhead replied, stabbing a piece of fruit with slightly more force than necessary. 

“Oh, well, isn’t that something that the maid of honor does?” Hermione asked, before the realization suddenly dawned on her. “OH MY GOODNESS! Are you asking me to be your Maid of Honor?!”

“I had nearly decided that I wanted to ask Percy but thought he would look dreadful in gold.” Ginny replied, dripping with sarcasm before taking another swig from her glass. “I thought it was pretty obvious that you’d be my maid of honor, ‘Mione. It’s not like I come from a pack full of females to choose from. Besides, you’re one of the most anal people I know, and I’m sure that having your expertise in all things detailed can be nothing but beneficial to our endeavor.” 

“I cannot believe you’re getting married, Gin! I’m sure that your wedding will be perfect.” Hermione continued, the backhanded compliment. “What did you have in mind for your Hen Night? I heard a few of the assistants chatting about a new club opening in London, I suppose that might be promising.” 

“Ugh. No, definitely no clubbing. I don’t want to deal with the crowds. Blaise’s parents offered to let us use their house in Italy, we figured we might make a week out of it and bring all of the wedding party for some rest and relaxation before the big day. Merlin knows between the two mothers and their constant hovering I’ll need some time away.” 

“I think that sounds like a lovely idea. It would definitely be nice to get away for a few days.” 

“Hold on, did I just hear Hermione Granger, work addict, say that she wanted to get away from her desk for more than 24 hours?” Ginny asked, raising her hand to her chest. 

“Once again, I’d prefer if we focused on more important things than myself and my work habits; have you decided when you’re going to go dress shopping?” Hermione asked, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh Circe’s teat, please don’t remind me. Mum and Ms. Zabini came round Saturday morning and dragged me to at least three different shops. They couldn’t stop fighting about eggshell or ivory long enough for me to see anything that resembled something other than a circus tent. I’d rather get married in a potato sack than do all of that again.” 

“As true as I know that statement is, there is no way that I’m going to let you walk down the aisle looking anything less than positively radiant. I’m sure that finding a dress won’t be nearly as hard as you make it out to be.” 

 

Draco was still feeling a little on edge after breakfast at the Manor. As much as he wanted to ignore what she had told him, Draco knew that Abraxas had known that Narcissa and Lucius would eventually marry as soon as he met her. He had also known that his mother was pregnant before she did. The man had a way with predicting the future that had always been a little uncanny. 

He tried to ignore the fact that his mother hadn’t even known that Draco had made plans to have dinner with Hermione that night, or that he hoped that things might become more serious than they were now. 

He certainly tried, and failed to ignore that he had awoken in the best mood since Christmas morning of his first year at Hogwarts (when his parents had given him a whole set of new Firebolts for when he and his friends played quidditch in the garden). 

No one knew how Draco’s heart seemed to catch fire when Hermione woke up that morning, and smiled sleepily at him before snuggling closer. 

No one knew the way that Hermione had traced the tattoo on his forearm, feather lightly with one of her slender fingers, before comparing it to the scar on her own. 

Draco had felt close to fainting when she had done that, inspecting their battle scars in such a way that lacked the usual judgement and hatred he had grown accustomed to since the war. 

Hermione had lay there, silently before whispering, “I’m sorry,” so quietly Draco almost hadn’t heard it. 

Without needing to ask her, he knew what she meant. Everyone who had been left behind was sorry. They were sorry they had survived and others hadn’t. They were sorry that they had been pulled apart by obligation or choice. Most of all though, they were sorry that they were haunted by the same ghosts; memories that threatened to overwhelm them all.

Draco hadn’t trusted his voice to reply, feeling a burning lump in the back of his throat, so he had simply gathered her close and kissed her tenderly. 

He still wouldn’t think of admitting that his grandfather could ever be correct in his presumptions, but the thought that he might had Draco smiling quite like a loon.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

It was nearly six o’clock and Hermione still needed to get dressed and smear on makeup and wrangle her hair. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep when she got home from her day out with Ginny, but the couch had been warm and soft and when a slamming door woke her at five thirty she had nearly had a heart attack. 

She threw open the doors to her wardrobe, deciding that changing out of her towel was highest on her list of priorities. As she flicked through the hangers, every single article of clothing seemed to hang limp like a dead fish. For Merlin’s sake, there has to be something in here that I can wear. 

Quickly, she decided that every blouse she had either looked like she had owned it since her Hogwarts days, or that she had yanked it out of her Great Aunt’s closet. Moving onto dresses, Hermione cursed herself for not taking shopping trips with Ginny more seriously. She had finally dismissed the last option when there came a resolute knock from her front door. 

Shit! Draco is here and you’ve not dressed or done your makeup! Hermione scolded herself, scurrying to unlock the door. 

When she opened it, Draco was standing in the doorway; holding an enormous bouquet of white peonies and looking like he had just stepped out of a magazine. He always seemed so effortless and it irritated the hell out of Hermione, especially in times like this. 

“Hello Draco, please come in. I’m sorry that I’m not quite ready yet.” she smiled, hurrying into her kitchen to find a vase. 

“Granger, come here.” Draco commanded, looking slightly upset with her. 

Shit, you bloody idiot. He probably has reservations somewhere. You just had to fall asleep didn’t you? 

“I’m sorry Draco, I really am. I accidentally fell asleep…” she stammered, standing in front of him.

She was surprised when he pulled her tightly to him, laughing softly. 

“You foolish girl. I don’t care about that, I was only wounded because you didn’t give me a kiss first.” 

Suddenly, Hermione did feel very foolish. She felt herself blushing as she raised herself onto her tip toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips. 

“Now, if you’re all better, I need to get dressed.” she teased, giving him a glance over her shoulder as she made her way back to her bedroom.   
She hoped that Draco would wait in the living room and allow her enough time to magically hide the growing mountain of clothing that had taken over her bed, but his footsteps followed her down the short hall to her bedroom. 

“Merlin, Granger. Have you tried on everything in your closet?” He asked, raising one eyebrow at the state of the room. 

“Not, everything.” 

Draco crossed the room to her wardrobe, hanging open with only a few skirts and evening gowns still hanging inside. 

“Ahh, yes. I suppose this would be my first choice for a dinner dress.” He teased, lifting the dress she had worn the night before out of the wardrobe. 

“Red isn’t your color, Draco. Besides, I was only looking for a shirt that I seem to have misplaced.” She lied, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Fine. That settles it, we’ll order takeout and stay in. Now you can wear whatever you want, although I still support the idea of wearing that dress.” He added, cheekily. 

“No, Draco. It’s fine, give me five minutes and I’ll be ready. I don’t want to ruin the plans you’ve made.” 

“Granger, when you’re as rich as the Malfoy family is, you don’t make plans. You show up to restaurants and they trip over themselves to give you a table. It’s no matter to me, and if we stay here I don’t have to share you with anyone else.” 

“I suppose that’s another one of the perks of being wildly wealthy? Never having to learn to share your toys?” Hermione asked, giving him a saucy look. She had been surprised at how easy their banter was, but now she thoroughly enjoyed their mutual teasing. 

“Why should it be a bad thing that I don’t want to share? Don’t tell me that you’ve ever felt happy about sharing the last piece of cake with someone, Granger.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to her wardrobe, this time to retrieve her favorite pair of pyjama pants and an old t shirt. She quickly pulled them on, not making eye contact with Draco, despite the magnetic pull that he seemed to have on her. 

When she finally did turn to meet his gaze, he was smiling at her. “Not my most fashionable choice, I know.” 

“What? Faded flannel and oversized shirts were all over the runways in Paris this season. At any rate, it is a positively endearing ensemble, and I’d still shag you senseless in it.” Draco mused, his voice dropping lower as he spoke. 

“That’s all fine and good, Malfoy, but you promised me dinner and I’m not letting you off the hook.” Hermione grinned, sending her clothing sailing back into her wardrobe with a flick of her wand. 

 

An hour later, they were sitting at Hermione’s dining table which had been piled high with takeout containers. Draco felt at ease, having abandoning his tie and jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and rolling his sleeves. 

Hermione had found an unopened bottle of red wine at the back of her fridge, which they had promptly opened to accompany the array of chinese they had settled on. Draco was distracted by how easy and comfortable this was, very unlike most of the other dates his mother had “encouraged” him to go on. There was a lull in the conversation, occasionally punctuated with the sounds of their eating. 

“You scare the hell out of me, Malfoy.” Hermione told him, her wineglass raised to her lips. He watched in complete fascination as the ruby red liquid ran through her parted lips. He saw the muscles in her throat tighten and release as it continued its descent into her belly. 

“Why should anything about me scare you, Hermione?” 

“You make me forget who I am when I’m with you. I’m not the damn “War Heroine” or “Golden Girl”. I’m just Hermione. You don’t know how long it has been since I’ve been able to be Just Hermione with someone.” she finished, 

“Why should that scare you?” he asked, feeling his heart do a little lurch. 

“It is decidedly out of character for me to be so...open with anyone so quickly. I’ve never been one to get into bed on the first date, and I’ve certainly never been one to believe in anything close to love at first sight.”

“One, we did not get into bed on our first date, Miss Granger. I am quite the gentleman, thank you very much. Second, it seems to me that it is entirely possible that you’ve never believed in love with anyone.” 

“That’s not fair, Draco. I loved Ron, we just fell out of love with the situation. I didn’t like his work hours, he didn’t like my work commitments. It got too hard to only put on appearances on weekends at brunch.” 

“So, you didn’t really love him.” he stated, reaching over to refill her glass. 

“I’ve actually just told you that I did love him, and you still don’t believe me?” 

“People don’t fall out of love-with-a-capital-L over work schedules, Hermione. Even when my bastard father was in Azkaban my mother still wrote to him everyday. Still cried herself to sleep knowing that he was there. She still isn’t completely okay, Granger, and my father destroyed her. That’s what love is, not just saying it because you’ve passed some sort of milestone together or because the other person said it first.” 

Hermione didn’t reply. Instead she pursed her lips, and stared at him thoughtfully. Draco could tell that she was turning his words over in her head, looking startlingly similar to how she used to look in their transfiguration classes. 

“Apparently it’s my turn to be scared now.” He smiled, leaning back in his chair. 

“I’m just trying to imagine how I would have reacted to something similar with Ron. So much of being together, at least at the end, seemed like it was a public obligation. Everyone wanted us to be together; we were the Golden Couple that had helped Harry Potter save the world. Everyone wanted it so much that we convinced ourselves that we wanted it too. The worst part of breaking up with him wasn’t telling our families or friends, I imagine they had all probably been expecting it, it was seeing it printed everywhere. I was supposed to be sad and broken hearted, but I wasn’t. It just felt natural.” 

“So, you didn’t really love him.”

“I guess you’re right, Malfoy. I didn’t really love him the way that I was supposed to have.” 

“Do you think I could get that in writing?” 

“You wish.” she giggled, rolling her eyes at him.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

The month that had passed since their last “date” seemed to trudge by, it seemed like weeks passed between the time Hermione ripped the days off of her desk calendar. 

In those four weeks, there had been an unfortunate lack of a certain Malfoy in her life; apparently running a giant company was harder than he made it out to be. Despite the lack of physical contact, Draco had been sure to remind Hermione of his presence; sending her letters and notes daily that had mostly been accompanied with a lavish gift that reflected his current location. 

The first gift had been a delightfully snuggly wool sweater, arriving with a package of the most delicious Scottish Shortbread Hermione had ever had. A selection of green tea had arrived whilst Draco was meeting with partners in Japan, perfume from Paris, and a beautiful woven rug from a Native American tribe in the Southwest. 

No matter how much Hermione appreciated the presents, she would have much rather had time with Draco instead. She had seriously underestimated how taxing planning a wedding would be when both Molly and Mrs. Zabini were involved.

The discussion over a color scheme had taken hours, days to set the seating chart, and weeks to figure out where the wedding would actually take place. The insecurities regarding wealth and affection had begun to rear their heads, and tension between the mothers was at an all time high. Hermione knew that Ginny needed her to get through the rest of the week until the wedding parties headed to Italy, but she really wished she could fall ill. 

As Hermione turned back to her work (there was never a shortage of paperwork on her desk), her office door suddenly swung open to reveal two of her oldest friends. Hermione smiled up at Harry and Ron, who wasted no time in making themselves comfortable, each getting themself a drink from the decanter she kept in a cabinet and settling into the armchairs across from her desk. 

“Sure, help yourselves.” She snorted, rolling her eyes at the two men, “I swear if the two of you keep popping in to drink and bother me, I’m going to start charging a cover.” 

“Well, ‘Mione, maybe if you didn’t have your liquor out in plain sight; we wouldn’t be so tempted to drink it every time we “pop in to bother you”.” Ron shot back, punctuating his response with a chuckle. 

“Fine, but at least get me something to drink too.” Hermione conceded, hoping that the alcohol might prepare her for dinner with Ginny and Company later that night.

“So, how goes it with the wedding planning?” Harry asked, sliding a glass of the amber liquid to her. 

“It’s a bloody nightmare. Mrs. Zabini has never been a peach, but your mother,” she groaned, pointing at Ron,” has never been worse, not even with Fleur. I don’t know how much more of their passive aggressive arguing I can take. It took us two HOURS to pick out the napkins! We’re supposed to finalize the floral arrangements tonight, but if it follows current trends they won’t be confirmed until the morning of the damn wedding” Hermione finished, throwing back the glass in one gulp. 

Before Hermione had the chance to lament further, there was a knock at her door just before it swung open to reveal Draco standing outside her office. Hermione froze, unsure of how to approach the situation, especially with the way that Ron bristled at Draco’s form. 

“Oi, Malfoy,” he barked, “what in the Hell are you doing here? Hermione’s busy and I’m not sure either of us are willing to do you any favors,” Ron finished, gesturing at himself and Harry. 

“Ronald!” Hermione exclaimed, barely restraining herself, “Draco is helping me with a Ministry project. We have a meeting so I’ll have to ask you both to leave.” She finished, taking their glasses and shoo-ing them out the door of her office. 

It seemed like Ron was too busy trying to establish his dominance to think too critically about the strange circumstances, but Hermione didn’t miss the confused glance Harry shot his way. Thankfully, he seemed to think it wise to get out of Hermione’s way, dragging his companion out of the office alongside him before closing the door with a faint click. 

“So, Granger, how is the progress on our secret Ministry project?” Draco smirked, crossing the room with his impossibly long strides.

Without waiting for her response, Draco swept her against his chest and kissed her firmly on the lips. 

“I’ve missed you, but I might have missed that even more, Hermione.” he whispered, loosening his grasp slightly so that he could look down at her. 

As per usual, Hermione felt herself grow warm under his gaze; she still couldn’t believe that someone so breathtakingly perfect would so much as glance in her direction. The longer he looked at her, the fuzzier her head seemed to get, as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear your exciting plans for tonight, but I do hope that you have room in your schedule for dinner with me.” Draco smiled, gently brushing her hair from her cheek. 

“I suppose that I could find some time, but only if there are glasses of wine included.” 

“Your wish is my command, Granger.” he winked, taking her coat and scarf off of the hanger by the door. 

In all of the time he had been gone, Hermione had nearly forgotten the way that Draco seemed to suck the air straight out of her lungs. As he gently helped her into her coat, Hermione rejoiced in feeling his warmth and his scent, one that was so quintessentially him, wrap around her. Unable to contain herself, she spun to face him before giving him a firm kiss of her own; hoping that it would carry all of the words she could not find to express how deeply she had missed his company. 

“If you keep kissing me like that, Granger, you might make a liar out of me.” He whispered, his jaw and eyes clenched tightly shut. 

“And if you keep kissing me back, Malfoy, I might be able to forgive you.” 

“In that case, Princess, why don’t we get out of here?” 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Sweet Merlin, I’m fucked aren’t I?” Draco thought to himself as he apparated the two of him to his own flat, feeling nervous to have Hermione at his own place for the first time. 

He had never been the type to let other people into his space; one night stands were always conducted in the relative privacy of expensive hotel rooms that helped to ensure that no one would show up on his doorstep. In general though, Draco just wanted to be alone while he was at home. He had forbidden anyone at his company to have his home address and had been known to send owls away once he had decided to stop working for the day. 

Seeing Hermione in his space was surreal, something straight out of his dreams. He quickly moved to take her coat and bag, gently hanging them in his coat closet before taking one of her small hands in his, leading her to his dining room. 

When they arrived, and Hermione let out a small gasp, Draco could not help but feel smug. He supposed it had been a bit presumptuous, organizing a fine candle lit dinner complete with her favorite flowers. 

“Thank Merlin she agreed, otherwise this would be pathetic.” He thought to himself, pulling Hermione close and kissing the top of her head. 

“Disregard what I said about forgiving you for skipping dinner earlier, Draco. I don’t think I could forgive myself for wasting this.” she smiled, looking up at him with the sweetest eyes he had ever seen. 

“I’m glad you like it, Hermione, it’s all for you, my dear.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

“Sweet Merlin, this man is pure perfection,” Hermione thought to herself, unabashedly staring at her dinner partner. It seemed like Draco had grown even more attractive in his absence, even though Hermione knew that this was highly unlikely, “Distance apparently does make the heart grow fonder.” 

She remembered how apprehensive she had been on their first “date”, how unsure she had been about potentially dating Draco Malfoy and felt quite foolish about it know. How wrong she had been, the woman who had made a name for herself at the Ministry for being fair and open minded. She hadn’t noticed herself blushing until Draco pointed it out, with the utmost tact. 

“You’re blushing, Granger. I haven’t even said anything particularly charming. Should I cut you off?” He joked, reaching over to refill her wine glass. 

“I was so wrong about you, Draco.” she blurted, suddenly feeling like she had put their idyllic moment at risk of being ruined. 

“I’m not sure what you mean, Hermione.” 

“When we went to dinner with Ginny and Blaise, I thought it would be a disaster. I thought that we would never get along and that we’d both be desperate to leave at the first opportunity.” 

“I’m not too proud to admit that my track record in general leads a lot of people to think that about me. How were you to know that I wasn’t the same miserable arse who had made your life hell for all of those years?” 

“You were just a kid then, Draco.” she said softly, taking one of his hands in hers, “none of us had any idea what we were doing, most of us didn’t have a choice in what we did. Everyone else decided for us.” 

“Don’t be modest, Hermione. You made the right decision, Potter and the Weasleys, everyone in the Order. You were all right and good and just. Don’t downplay your own goodness for my sake, or anyone else’s for that matter.” 

“Oh, Draco, don’t punish yourself for what you had to do. We both know that during the War everything was about survival, for both sides. There’s no way you could have turned your back on Voldemort, there’s no way he would have let you live. That tattoo doesn’t prove anything though, you chose the side that you believed in when it mattered the most.” 

There was a gentle silence that settled over the dinner table. Neither of them picked up their forks or glasses, both sat in quiet contemplation. It wasn’t the sort of awkward pause that ended with panicked conversation or dull chatter that only avoided such lulls in conversation though, it was comfortable.   
“I think I love you, Hermione. I know that’s probably ridiculous, but I don’t give a damn.” Draco whispered, stroking the back of her hand with such tenderness and meeting her eyes with such softness that Hermione knew he was speaking truthfully. “I think I’ve loved you from afar for a long time, really, but being with you has only made it solid and real.” 

Hermione was stunned. No one, not even Ron, had ever admitted loving her in a manner that felt so honest and true. Perhaps it was because this declaration had slipped out without any sort of show or build up that made it feel like something bigger than what it actually was. Just like everything else in their relationship thus far, being in love felt like something completely natural, something that could have gone without saying while still being just as valid. 

“I love you too, Draco.” she replied simply, feeling like anything else would be an understatement. 

The pair simply grinned at each other, each picking up their fork and returning to their dinner and resuming their previous conversation. 

“How then, my dear, has Mrs. Zabini been throughout the wedding planning?” Draco asked, trying too hard to seem innocent. 

“Absolutely dreadful, though I’m sure you already knew that,” She replied, shooting him a look of disapproval, “I would prefer to avoid discussing anything that has to do with that damned wedding at the moment.” 

“Even the part when we’ll be in Italy, sunbathing in various states of undress? You know, the Malfoy Villa is just next door if we ever need to sneak away.” Draco asked, wagging his eyebrows at the suggestion of being alone, together. 

“You really know how to woo a girl, don’t you?” she snorted, feeling blissfully excited at the prospect of time in the warm sun with Draco Malfoy.

 

Draco dreaded the thought of Hermione leaving, cursing the Weasleys and Zabinis for conspiring against him. He wanted nothing more than to take her to bed and to hold her close. He wanted to make her, his. 

“Damn Abraxas.” He thought to himself, smiling at the happy fortune his grandfather seemed to have predicted. 

“I could marry you, Granger.” he said, as casually as one might talk about the weather or quidditch. 

“What? Are you- are you asking me to marry you, Draco?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

“No, not right now. You’d definitely know if I was asking you to marry me, Hermione. I’m only sharing an observation.” 

“How then, did you come to such a conclusion?” 

“Well, I let you into my flat, didn’t I?” He chuckled, “and you don’t bore me. You’re caring and beautiful and quite possibly the patron Saint of Sex.” 

“You really know how to woo a girl, don’t you” she deadpanned, before taking another drink from her glass. 

“Hey! I can’t use my best material right now!”

“Are you saving it for a better time, then?”

“You’ll know it when you hear it, princess.” Draco replied, rising to clear the plates from the table before giving Hermione a gentle kiss. “How much time do you have until you need to meet Ginny and Company?”

“Not long enough.” Hermione groaned as she checked her watch. “Unfortunately I should probably head out. I’m not doing anything afterwards though…”

“Here, take my key.” He smiled, fishing his keys out of his pants pocket before pressing them into her palm. 

“I’ll be back, Mr. Malfoy. Until then, I hope you won’t get too lonely without me.” 

“I’m sure I will, Granger, so you’d better hurry.” He replied, giving her one final kiss before following her to his front door. 

“I could do this forever. Fuck.” Draco realized, not entirely sure how he had grown so desperate for a life of domestic bliss with this witch so quickly. It was as if everything Blaise had told him was becoming true; he didn’t want to be without Hermione. He’d slept like hell throughout his absence, constantly tormented with dreams of his reunification with her. “You’ve got it bad, you sap.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the delay in posting, errands and gardening took ahold of my life for a little while! I hope that you all enjoy this chapter, even if it's mostly fluff... I PROMISE that they'll finally make it to Italy in the next chapter and that there will be more Ginny/Blaise as well. In other news, I'm thinking about doing a "Christmas in July" challenge for the month of July where I would post a one shot every day of the month. If it's something you'd be interested in, please send me either a.) a Private Message on Fanfiction *not a comment with a prompt (it can be as detailed or minimal as you wish, but please note I may combine multiple small prompts to create one bigger one) OR b.) an ask/message on my Tumblr (my handle is parchmentandoldbooks as well!). As always, Happy Reading!   
> -Hannah

When Hermione finally arrived at Draco’s flat later that night, she could not wait to be distracted from the irritation that had overcome her. Naturally, as with everything else about this wedding, Molly and Ms. Zabini had tossed thinly veiled insults at each other over everything. It had finally taken Ginny losing her cool to silence the two women so that she and Hermione could finish the remaining tasks in peace. She gently slid Draco’s key into the lock, feeling a rush of excitement wash over her and settle in her stomach. 

 

“Draco?” She called out as she entered his flat, feeling entirely out of place. 

 

“In here, Hermione.” his voice responded from somewhere deeper into the apartment. His bore little resemblance to her own. It was far more industrial, but in an elegant sort of way. It was certainly much larger than hers as well, seeing as it had more than three rooms. She tentatively followed the sound of his voice, wondering why he hadn’t come to greet her as she expected. She noticed a door at the end of the hallway that had been left cracked open, allowing light to escape through the opening. 

 

She slowly pushed the door open, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Draco?” she asked, peeking into the room. 

 

“Come on, Granger. It’s just my bedroom, I swear I’m not trying to kidnap you or something,” Draco smiled, his head appearing in a doorway off to the side of the room, “have a seat, you can help me figure out what to pack.” 

 

Hermione sat on the edge of his bed, which was probably the softest thing she had ever slept on, she noted. “What have you gotten packed already?” 

 

“Well, I’ve got underwear and socks,” he replied with a sheepish smile. 

 

“Not to be that person, Draco, but don’t you think you’re...overthinking this? It’s just a week amongst friends, I really don’t think anyone is going to care what you’re wearing.”

 

“Not even you, Granger? I’m wounded, really. That doesn’t matter though, while Blaise pretends to be a casual sort of bloke, he’d give me hell if I wasn’t well dressed. So, which of these shirts do you think I should take?” He asked, holding up two shirts that looked exactly the same to Hermione’s untrained eye. 

 

“Draco, you’re holding up two shirts that look exactly the same. Close your eyes and pick one or something.” 

 

“Hermione, dear. These shirts are entirely different. This one is charmeuse,” he explained, raising the one in his right hand, “but this is dupioni.” 

 

“That means literally nothing to me, Draco. They both look nice.”   
“Yes, Hermione. Of course they look nice, I picked them out. You see the difference is in the weaving.” He began, and Hermione settled in for a long explanation, “charmeuse uses thread of the same size and weight for the warp and weft, but the weft in dupioni is irregular. It creates a different sort of luminosity and...You know, Granger, you’re right the dupioni is obviously the superior choice.” 

 

Deciding that “helping” Draco pick out clothes until they left for Italy the next morning was far from an ideal use of their time together, Hermione decided to employ all of the political tact she could muster. 

 

“You know, Draco, we could always go on strolls to the Malfoy villa, where I’m sure you have a closet full of fine clothes.” She suggested, rising from the bed and approaching him in the closet. “Then we could have an excuse to slip away, and we could spend the rest of the night relaxing.” she whispered, toying with the buttons of his shirt. 

 

“You, my dear, are truly the brightest witch of our age.” He grinned, dropping the hangers and lifting her into his arms. 

 

He promptly carried her to his bed, where they made quite the comfortable nest amongst his down pillows and impossibly soft duvet. After they had successfully wrinkled the sheets, and released a great deal of tension, they lay together in sleepy contentment. 

 

Suddenly, Draco shot up in bed with a start, “Shit, I forgot to hang those shirts back up, they’ll be creased to hell and back.” 

 

Hermione simply laughed at him, shaking her head as he dashed into the closet. 

 

“This is serious, Granger,” he warned, looking a bit frantic as he examined the shirts. “I’ll have to have these dry cleaned and it’s sure to be a disaster. The cleaners have ‘lost’ three of my shirts but I’m certain that the owner is only stealing them from me.” 

 

“Draco Malfoy, forget the damn shirts and come back to bed. I have certainly been under cuddled over the past month, and will be seriously pissed if you continue to carry on about your shirts. I’ll take care of them in the morning for you.” 

 

Looking a little timid, Draco carefully hung the shirts and crawled back into the bed. 

 

“That’s better. Now, lay down and stay still. I’m absolutely knackered and we have quite the big day ahead of us.” She instructed, tucking herself against his side and laying her head on his chest. 

 

“Alright, Granger. I’m not agreeing because I’m afraid of your right hook, it’s because I’m choosing to agree with you.”   
“Sure, Draco.” Hermione smiled, closing her eyes and snuggling just a little closer to his warmth. 

 

The next morning, Hermione carefully slipped out of bed so as not to wake Draco, before casting a quick charm to un-crease the shirts that had caused him such dismay. 

 

You’d think that he’s forgotten he can do magic, she thought to herself. She glanced over at the bed, where Draco still seemed to be sleeping soundly, and decided that he still had some time to spare. 

 

Maybe I’ll make some tea, she decided, quietly creeping out of the out of the bedroom and back down the hall. She passed a few closed doors, curious about what was behind them, but she didn’t want to pry. Finally, she reached the kitchen, and realized that she had no idea where anything was. 

 

She tried a few of the cupboards, revealing a plethora of spices and dry goods, expensive looking dinnerware, and a full collection of pots and pans, before she finally uncovered his sizeable collection of exotic teas. She rooted around the cupboard, carefully reading each of the labels before settling on a chai blend. After finding the kettle, and boiling her water, she made two cups of the tea, thinking that it might make Draco a bit more agreeable upon his waking. 

 

She was in the midst of carefully adding in milk and sugar, when his voice rang out behind her. 

 

“If that isn’t one of the greatest views, I don’t know what is.” He said, his voice still low and gravelly with sleep, before coming to wrap his arms around her waist and kiss the side of her neck. 

 

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, imagine how lovely it will be once we’re lazing around in the Italian sun.” She smiled, turning so that she could give him a proper kiss.


End file.
